


Shinigami Eyes

by Rasiaa



Series: Shinigami Series [2]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasiaa/pseuds/Rasiaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't usually fall in love. I've never done that one. If this is what it feels like, then I never want to do it again." Gifts can be curses just the same as curses can be gifts. Raito has to learn that the hard way, over the course of one of the most challenging experiences of his life. Originally posted on fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has several words lifted from the English dub of the anime. There is no copyright infringement intended here. I am not making money. This entire story was written merely so that I can practice writing longer manuscripts for my original novel.
> 
> This is different than the actual Death Note, however. Raito is a very different person here. He has different lessons to learn. There are added scenes, and obviously, a different ending. This story deals with the following: depression, medical issues, descriptive writing, and homosexuality. The last two are mild, but will be significantly increased in the sequel. If any of this bothers you, back out now. I don't want to hear anything about how such and such isn't correct, or how something bothers you. I'm not forcing you to read this, and you are welcome to back out at any time.
> 
> If you are still here, thank you for taking an interest. Enjoy the story. If you have questions, feel free to ask me, but I am not going to spoil my own story.

“What do you suggest, then?”

Ryuk shrugged, not looking Kynsal’s way. “I’ve no idea,” he admitted. “I suppose just watch and wait. It should provide some entertainment at some point.”

“Entertainment?” Kynsal repeated, eyes wide. Her pale white wings fluttered angrily behind her, and her blue eyes blazed almost white. “You call this entertainment, Ryuk? This is a child, you ignorant fool! A small boy- human, at that! I’d give in if it was an elf or something, but a human boy? No, you have to save him, take back the Eyes!”

Ryuk finally glanced up from the Pool of Transportation to look at the other God. “I can’t,” he confessed. “They’re his eyes, now, Kyn, and there isn’t anything I can do. He’d be born without eyes if I took them now.”

He turned back to the Pool, looking down at a woman holding her infant child in her sleep. The boy, however, was wide-awake and staring around the room with bright red eyes that had opened shortly after he was left, for the most part, alone. Ryuk knew this one was smart. Kynsal made a distressed noise and grabbed the back of Ryuk’s neck. “What?” he asked, just before he ran out of air.

“If you can’t take the Sight from him, then you might as well give the family some semblance of normality and cover the red shade in his eyes!” she cried in response. He struggled against her hold, long, clawed fingers grabbing at the bony fingers around his neck. “You understand!” she demanded, shaking him. 

Black spots blinking at the corner of his vision, he nodded quickly, and she released him. He fell to the ground, hard, gasping. The loss of breath would not have killed him, but the old human instincts had kicked in, and for a moment he forgot that he could not die, especially from strangulation. He glared up at her with his own red eyes, just like the child’s, and narrowed them threateningly. “Do that again,” he rasped, throat sore, “and I’ll make sure that the rest of your life here, however long that may be, is the worst hell you’ve ever experienced and ever will again.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I don’t care. Just cover the red,” she hissed.

“Just one problem,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes in response. “What color could possibly cover red?” he questioned, and Kynsal looked lost.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses from the previous chapter, all. I appreciate it.

My whole life, I’ve known that something was a little off. It wasn’t anything I could pinpoint, exactly, until I was roughly six years old. Then I knew just how different I was, and I also knew I didn’t like it. 

When I was six years old, I saw someone die of cardiac arrest right in front of me. Of course, at the time, I was not watching the person, but the numbers above their head. They were ticking down, and fast. The man, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t looking him in the eyes. I never had looked anyone in the eyes, more preoccupied with the flashy red numbers above their heads, so the speech he was giving me was nothing new. The only thing new was when he cut himself off with a gasp in the middle of a word. I glanced down quickly, seeing the white of his eyes quickly cover the brown irises. He clutched at his chest before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Everyone around me was surprised, having not expected to witness a death that day, nor any other day, and more than once in the few days after the incident I was asked if I was okay. They told me it should have been a bit of a shock- seeing someone die unexpectedly right in front of my eyes. But they didn’t believe me when I insisted that it wasn’t unexpected at all; that I had been waiting for that moment. 

I questioned the officers and doctors if they could see the red names and numbers floating almost criminally above people’s heads, and they gave me weird looks. I knew immediately that the answer was no, and I never asked anyone else again. I kept it a secret, even from my own family. They never knew that I counted down the seconds until their deaths. They thought I was merely antisocial, nothing more. I suppose, after all these years of hiding what I am, I have become recluse, antisocial, and depressed. It saddens me to believe, yet, it is the truth. I cannot let anyone close for fear of my secret being released. I could not bear it if I were to be stared at with contempt and fear.

Several times I have searched for any clue as to why I can see people’s names and life spans, but have come up short- finding only tales and myths surrounding different cultures around the world. It’s left me lost and disappointed, but by the time I’m getting ready to go into collage, I barely find it within me to care anymore. I doubt it’s a medical condition, either. I’ve become used to the constant sting of desperation and craving for human company that understands me as a person, not the young man who is at the top of the classes and anything else he puts his mind to. It is not a craving so easily satisfied, as genii- and I am no exception- often have many sides and a very complex personality on top of a mind that works at a faster pace, and always over-analyzes and contemplates every scenario available. These traits, often coupled with either manic depression or a large ego or something in between, make it nearly impossible for people to put up with us for very long. Only another genius would ever be able to understand, and how often does one come across one with intellect as high as mine?

I gather my things from my desk- last night’s homework, and my journal- and stuff them unceremoniously into my black backpack, banishing the thoughts from my mind. That done, I let the bag drop into my chair as I make my way over to my closet. I pull a black button down shirt from the rack and put it on, and my blue jeans. I pull my backpack up and swing it over one shoulder, grabbing my black hoodie from the floor as I do so. I then step out the door, my eyes immediately finding the flashing red above my sister’s head. She is standing in front of my door, clearly ready to knock, her entire demeanor screaming of excitement. Her eyes are wide and bright, not like that’s anything new. Her dark hair- much, much darker than my own- is curled. She must’ve had her curlers in this morning. My fairly okay mood disappears as soon as I read: Sayu Yagami 68 years, 7 months, 12 days, 14 hours, 6 minutes, and 43 seconds counting down as I watch. It hovers right above her head, the name above the numbers, but the numbers look more like- 6871214643 to me. 

Her lifespan had decreased by a year over night. What a wonderful way to start the day, I think to myself, frowning at her. I can almost feel my eyes heating up in anger, ready to flash red, but I get it under control before she can notice. I‘ve hidden it for so long, I can’t let a bad mood ruin it. “What do you need, Sayu?” I question, shutting my door behind me. I walk around her, trying to gain some personal space.

She grins at me, and then starts in, “You will never believe it, Onīsan, you know that boy I’ve been fawning over for months now, Akio, well, he texted me this morning, and he asked me out, and I’m so excited!” She says all of this in one breath, with a high pitched, squealing tone, and I’m almost overwhelmed. Anyone else would be, I’m sure, but I am so used to it now. 

“That’s great,” I tell her, and, thankfully, she shuts up after a quick, “Good day in school, Ratio!” and takes off. I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk down the stairs, seeing the door slam just as I reach the bottom.

My mother is waiting for me, breakfast in her hand. She smiles at me; completely unaware of the 6 years she has left to live. It kills me that no one knows about the numbers. I feel more isolated than ever as I take the breakfast with a fake smile and a false cheery voice, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later, hai?” I open the door and step outside just slightly, waiting for her reply.

“Hai,” she replies. “Have a good day, dear, Ratio!” I shut the door before she can say anything else, not wanting to listen to her this morning. I drop my bag onto the ground and pull on the hoodie, taking out my MP3 Player from the pocket and sticking the ear buds in. I then zip the jacket up all the way and pull the hood over my head, concealing my auburn hair from view. I pick my backpack up again as some American pop music starts playing. My parents never could figure out why I listen to it- they think I don’t understand the lyrics as well I as I do. They have no clue that I’m fluent in at least five languages, English included. It was something I studied in my free time, so they wouldn’t know unless I told them.

I take off down the road, my head bent and my hands stuffed in the pockets of my hoodie. My thoughts wander, from the homework in my backpack, to the classes I was probably going to have to put little effort into. I wish I had to try harder to keep my position as the top student in the country, but it was just too easy. The only one I’d ever even vaguely heard of that might come close to my intelligence was that unknown detective L. But I have no way of contacting him, and the only reason I know of his existence in the first place is because of how bored I was one morning when I was about fifteen. 

I had hacked into the NPA’s server and solved every single case they had in about three hours. They had had about seventy cases. I sent my notes on some of the more difficult cases to the police office base anonymously and had been checking the database biweekly ever since. I solved every case, but had never told anyone since, except for when my father asked for my help, in which case, my assistance was made public. But it was through one case that was especially top secret that I found out about L. 

Apparently, he’s a detective who is unknown in every aspect. There is no name, nor picture of him to be found. That isn’t to say they aren’t there, of course, I suppose they are locked up on some computer in the middle of nowhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if the man had his own fucking satellite to keep his information hidden. 

A crossing guard, halfway to my high school, stops me. I hadn’t realized I had come so far, too lost in my own thoughts. I look up at the crowd of people surrounding me, and I straighten my posture unconsciously, getting the strangest feeling of being watched. I don’t like it. I glance at the news report out of the corner of my eye, reading the kanji letters as they flash across the bottom of the screen. I don’t bother taking my headphones out, partly because it’s my latest favorite song, and partly because I don’t want to listen to the obnoxious sounds of the city. I realize, as I think this, that I can hear the people around me, and I turn my music up louder. 

I’ve never known what it is, but people seem to know, somehow, that there is something wrong with me. I am walking across the street, and people around me jostle each other and stamp on one another’s feet in their haste. But I’m never touched like that. I’ve never been messed with, or bullied, or even accidentally shoved in the street. It might be some sort of antisocial vibe I give off, or maybe it’s the subconscious minds of those around me warning of a supernatural danger. I make a point not to look at anyone directly, so that might also be it. This never really bothers me, as I pretty much despise most of humanity anyway, but it bothers me today. I reach the end of the street and the crowd disperses to their own desired destinations, and I stand there for a moment, feeling a cold snake slither along my vertebra and coil around my tailbone, and I shiver. It’s only late October still, but I’m suddenly overcome with cold, and my hands feel slightly numb. 

The feeling disappears as soon as it arrived, and I shove it to the darkest corner of my mind, far away from my conscious thoughts so that I can avoid thinking about it. I swallow the remaining saliva in my mouth as I begin to walk the next couple of blocks to my school. My feet feel heavy, and my head hurts. The pain is building right behind my eyes, so it feels like I am being hit with a hammer right above my nose, between my eyebrows. There is pressure on the sides, too, but I ignore it all, too used it to for it to be normal. I probably should see a doctor, but I don’t bother.

Finally, finally, I make it to school, getting onto the campus with ten minutes to spare before I have to go to homeroom. Am I really that early, I wonder tiredly, opening the front door to the school and stepping inside. I’m one of seven other students in the entrance hall, and I’m thankful it isn’t anyone I could consider as a close acquaintance. I don’t have friends, and I suddenly realize, watching the seven mingle among themselves while I’m left painfully alone in the doorway, I probably never will. I close my amber eyes against this epiphany, before I straighten my spine and push my shoulders back. I undo the zipper as I push back the hood of my jacket. I run my fingers through my hair as I tug the ear buds from my ears and turn off the music. I plaster a fake smile on my face and close off my expressions and wonder sadly, will anyone ever see me for what and who I really am?

As soon as I’m presentable, I step into the school’s entrance hall more fully than before, and it’s like I’m not invisible anymore. It’s like I am someone that doesn’t deserve to die. Of course not- I’m Yagami Raito, top student in the country, junior tennis champion three years running, and one of the most popular students in the school. I’m good-looking and have the girls following me around like dogs half the time. My intelligence is unmatched and everyone either wants me or wants to be me. If only they knew what I freak I am, I think sourly as I tune out my classmates yappy voices. I smile and nod in all the right places and they don’t suspect a thing. They all have different classes than I do, so I will probably not see them again until tomorrow. My smile becomes just the slightest bit genuine at this thought.

The bell rings after several agonizing minutes of gossip and problems I don’t listen to. I flash one last smile after the alarm meets my eardrums, and I turn and make my way to homeroom before they can say anything else. I wish I could say that I haven’t the slightest idea of what they had been going on about, but my photographic memory laughs in my face at the idea. I enter my homeroom and I can’t help but think of what they told me. Apparently, Yuki, who is sitting on the desk in the front with several people surrounding her, has a secret relationship with her ex boyfriend while she is also dating one boy from the high school in the next town over. Daichi, who lives on my street, is failing his classes because of an alcohol problem. Emi is a smoker, and Kaito is doing drugs behind the school.

Truthfully, when I hear these things, I think of my own secret, and I think of how good of a liar I really am. Curious, I look at Kaito’s lifespan, and see that he barely has 20 years left to live. I can recall wondering why just last month, but now my mind makes the connection; he’ll be killed from his drugs. My sympathy, which was very little to begin with, evaporates as I take my seat by the window. The bell rings again seconds later, and the teacher begins to take attendance while everyone takes his or her seats. He makes some sort of announcement about a holiday of some sort that gives us the day off next Friday. Then everyone starts talking again and I’m tempted to turn my music on again. Instead I watch the wind blow through trees outside, thinking of nothing.

I don’t move when first period starts, after all, I am in the math class in this room. Advanced calculus, something I already know, for the most part. A few students come in after the others leave, but I take no notice of them. I already have my homework out from the night before, and the teacher tells us to pass it forward. Six out of the twenty students don’t have it. Sometimes, I am really ashamed to be apart of the school. I’m much smarter than everyone here, and I could’ve graduated collage years ago, but my parents wanted social interaction. Dealing with people just makes me depressed.

The class goes by painfully slow. The teacher realizes, after about five minutes, that I was the only one who understood the lesson yesterday, and has to teach it all over again. I don’t bother with notes, seeing as I already know all of this. I just lean my head on my hand while I draw in my notebook. 

History class, which is second period, goes by in much the same way. I had learned all about Chinese history (why do we learn it in the first place, anyway?) sometime four years ago on a whim. I had been in eighth grade, I think. By the time third period, English class, comes around, I’m seriously considering just ditching school. I have a few pages in my notebook just covered in small drawings that fill up every inch- the designs reach each corner and edge. The seven pages I have destroyed for the most part, when placed side-by-side, make a whole picture. It was an interesting way to pass the time while everyone else filled his or her notebooks with notes. I don’t believe I’ll do that again.

I glance out the window next to me- I have the window seat in every class- and see nothing out of the ordinary. Everything is the same- tedious, mundane, and foolish. Nothing new, or exceptionally exciting ever happens. My gaze loses focus after a while, and everything- the trees, grass, walls, sidewalks, benches- becomes blurry. It is slowly turning into one large mass of color, and the voice of the teacher becomes a white static. I can almost feel the heat behind my eyes building, threatening to turn them red. I blink as watch everything come in focus once more before this can happen. No one is watching, but I cannot take that chance.

The teacher calls my name, and asks me to translate the sentence from my English textbook. A bird flies by just as I turn my head- a flash of black that I barely notice. I focus on the teacher and nod, standing. “Follow the teachings of God and receive His blessings and so it shall be that the seas will again become bountiful and the raging storms will subside,” I recite, then sit down again. The teacher nods, and I look over the drawings in my notebook again, wondering when my life will take a turn for the better.

Behind me, a young exchange student is staring out the window, eyes locked on a speck of black that breaks the never-ending sea of green.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I sigh as my backpack hits the floor with a soft thunk. The rest of the day had been as boring as the day before, and the day before that. I sink into my chair and turn on my computer, American music still pounding in my ears. I had bolted from the school campus as soon as the bell had rung; my hood over my head and the jacket zipped up, my head down. I became someone else. My jacket is now on its hook in the closet, waiting for me to use it again tomorrow. 

The computer loads finally and I type in my password- a very lengthy combination of letters, numbers, and punctuation marks- my mind solving the homework problems I had received over the coarse of the day. When I get into my computer, I reach down to pick up my bag and I unzip it. The assignments are right where I left them, so I pull them out and grab a pencil from my desk jar. I fill out the answers without hesitation, and pause only when I reach a question I hadn’t answered yet. I pull my MP3 Player’s ear buds from my ears and then plug the player into the computer. After a minute, music fills the room, and I fill out the rest of the papers.

I finish, and glance at the clock. It is just after seven o’clock in the evening. The news should be on. Quickly, I place my papers back into my backpack and then grab my remote. I turn the T.V. on and then sit back in my chair. They discuss the usual points- weather, sports, and other nonsense I couldn’t care less about. Finally, they get to a kidnapping and hostage report –the man was 42 years old, and he was called Kurou Otoharada. He apparently was holding students and teachers hostage. I’m not entirely sure if I’m sympathetic towards them or not. It sounds cruel, but if, I figure, they were meant to die today, why should that matter to me? It’s just interesting to see how.

The suspect has roughly thirty years left to live- that means he’ll probably be captured by the police and thrown in jail. The news report continues, but I watch the numbers slowly tick down above the suspect’s head with a distant interest. Suddenly, the reporter gets all excited, and the students and teachers start coming out of the school while the police start pouring in. I glance back at the man’s picture, and, to my shock, the numbers are at zero. He’s dead, and way before his time. How did that happen? I watch the students’ numbers begin to increase, because some were destined to die in there. But they didn’t. How?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The man’s death puzzles me over the next few days. I don’t understand- this has never happened before. Was it a mistake? Were the numbers wrong for the first time in my life? I don’t want to think that, but it seems to be the only option…. What can I place my trust in now if the numbers lie to me? Sitting in my bedroom after a tiring day of classes and loud students, I don’t know what to do. Those numbers were the only things I’ve been able to trust for certain my whole life, and now…what is wrong with the world, to make things this way?

The T.V. is on, but I’m not watching it. I haven’t finished my homework, either, but I don’t really care at this point. I watch the people move about on the T.V. without really seeing them, until the broadcast is taken to the local news channel. I blink, my world coming back into focus. A man is sitting at a podium, dressed in a nice, clean suit. His dark hair falls to his shoulders, and his dark eyes show no emotion. I glance up above his head, and see that the man is called Lind L. Taylor, and as about fifteen hours left to live. Sucks to be him, I think sourly, barely interested in whatever it is he has to say. He starts talking, something about Kira… What? I turn back to the screen, and my eyes flash red just as he collapses from a heart attack. My eyes remain red. My heart is racing- could these false numbers really just be the result of murder?

The screen blanks out to a white background with a black calligraphic “L” in the center. Is it really L? Moments later, a synthetic voice announces, “I can't believe it. I tested it just in case, but I never thought it could actually be true... Kira, it seems you can kill people without having to be there in person. I wouldn't have been able to believe this if I hadn't just witnessed it. Listen closely, Kira; if you did indeed kill the Lind L. Tailor on screen, I can tell you that he was in fact a criminal that was due to be put to death today. That was not me. He was a criminal that was captured by the police in absolute secrecy. You wouldn't have heard of him on the news or through the Internet. It looks like not even you have information on these kinds of killers. But as for L, he certainly does exist, as my own persona. Now try and kill me! Go on then. Hurry up! Kill me! What’s wrong? Kill me! What are you going to do? Go on! Kill me! What’s the matter? Can’t you do it?

So, it seems you can't kill me. So there are certain people you can’t kill. Thanks for the hint. As a reward, I'll tell you one more thing. We lied about this being a live worldwide broadcast. This announcement is currently only being broadcasted across the Kanto region of Japan. We were planning to broadcast it at different times, across different regions, but it seems there is no longer any need for this. I know you're in Kanto. Your first killing was overlooked by the police, as it was such a small incident. However, your first victim was in fact the phantom killer in Shinjuku. Whilst the other high profile criminals were dying of heart attacks, this was the one incident that stuck out as being quite a heavy punishment for a relatively low profile crime. In addition, that incident was only reported in Japan. Just those pieces of information were enough for me to figure it out. It means that you are in Japan, and that criminal was your first "experiment." Due to its large population, this announcement was first broadcasted in the Kanto region. And what luck! We found you. To be honest, I never thought it would go this smoothly. Kira, it seems like it won’t be too long before I can sentence you to death. Kira, I'm curious to know your true motives behind this... But I guess that can wait until I've caught you. Let's meet again soon, Kira.”

I stare, wide-eyed; as the screen goes back to the program I had it on earlier. Then I start to laugh. L is clearly a fucking genius, tricking Kira into revealing himself like that. I really would love to meet this guy, but the chances of that, I know, are slim to none. But, he’ll be coming to Japan soon, if he’s not here already. Who knows? I could run into him on the street.

When my laughter dissipates, I turn to finish up my homework, pleased with how things are going for the first time in about a week, or maybe longer. Normally the numbers accommodate things like murder, but if they don’t in this case, that’s okay. Why should I care if these people live or die, anyway? They’re just criminals- rotten people in this rotten world that probably deserve to die.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I’m walking back home again, tired and weary. I’ve been checking up on the Kira case every day since L’s bold stunt, but nothing new has come up. It’s somewhat worrying, I think, as I slide my key into the door of my house and open the door. I step inside and slip my keys back into my pocket. I then make my way upstairs to study for the entrance exams to To-Oh University. I don’t really need to, as I know it all, but it is a mindless task and gives me something to do. 

I step into my bedroom, and hang my jacket up in the same place as before. My backpack falls to the floor when I let my grip lax, and I sink into my chair. The peace doesn’t last long, though. Sayu starts knocking on my door. “Onīsan,” she calls, “Can you help me with my math homework, please?” There goes my studying time, I think to myself.

“Yeah, come in, Sayu,” I call, turning on my desk light. Sayu comes into the room, dark hair swaying behind her. She’s got a packet of math in her hand, and a pencil in the other. I sigh internally, not really wanting to do this. “We’re doing quadratic equations in math. I’m like, the only one in my class who doesn’t get this.” 

I nod and stand up; she takes my chair. “Alright,” I say, “What do you need help with? What are you stuck on?” 

She grins at her paper, a crease between her brows. “Um, I think all of it,” she replies, and I seriously consider banging my head against the wall. Luckily, eighth grade math has always been quite simple, especially for me. Helping Sayu understand it isn’t difficult, and it is another mindless task I can partake in, instead of going over things I already knew. We sit there for about three hours, and Sayu finally understands pre-algebra just as my mother Sachiko calls us down for dinner. Sayu rushes downstairs, apparently eager for a break.

I follow, though at a slower pace. I make my way downstairs, passing the living room to my left, and then going through the doorway into the kitchen. It is a cozy kitchen, I suppose, painted yellow, with a table in the center. It is placed for four, rather than three, as it had been for the past few nights. My father, Soichiro, is sitting at the table, head in his hands. He isn’t wearing his police uniform anymore, instead wearing a casual outfit. “Hello, Father,” I say, slightly pleased to see him, slightly upset. 

The only thing that makes me not so happy to see him here is the reduced lifespan. He had about 50 years left to live the last time I had seen him- seven days ago. Now, though, only six years of those fifty remain. I feel a sting behind my eyes, but I force it back. It wouldn’t do to just burst into tears at the dinner table. Just because my dad was going to die in six years… I need to stop thinking, I tell myself sternly, sitting down in my seat, across from my father. Great, now the reduced lifespan is all I can see.

My dad looks up and our eyes catch for a split second before I look away. I focus on a spot behind him, just over his shoulder. I can barely hear it, but my sensitive ears manage anyway- he sighs. I know my family hates my avoidance of looking anyone in the eyes, but I can’t help it. I see my reflection in their eyes, and I always see my name, but no lifespan. It bothers me, so I avoid looking in mirrors as much as possible. “Hello, Raito,” is all he says. I feel slightly guilty. “So, tell me. How is school going?”

“Everything’s okay, I guess,” I tell him, looking down at my plate. My mother has just put food on it, but with the appearance of my father, my appetite vanished. I feel like throwing up instead of eating. 

“Whatever. He’s at the top of his class! My big brother’s a genius!” Sayu brags to him. She’s grinning wildly, obviously pleased with her discovery. 

“That’s my son,” my mother says, smiling. “We’re all proud of you, Raito.”

“How is work? Is everything okay? You look tired. You’ve been very busy lately,” I desperately try to direct the attention away from me. I pick up my chopsticks and start poking at my food while Sayu takes her seat beside me, and my mother takes hers beside Dad. I take a small bite of the food, and then push it around some more, to give them impression of it being eaten.

“Indeed, son. The case I’m working on is very difficult, though I’m not allowed to say too much about it. Criminals keep dying from heart attacks…it’s all very strange. We’re working with L on the case.” Neither my mother nor my sister have any vague idea as to who L is, so they don’t see this detail as anything important. “He’s deduced that, from the hours of the killings, the killer called Kira is a student.” I knew this already, from checking on the case earlier. 

“The killer is a student?” My mother sounds shocked. “And he kills with heart attacks? Dear, don’t you think this is too dangerous?”

“I have to catch this man. He’s dangerous, and needs to be stopped, regardless of the threat to my life,” Soichiro responds. 

I grin and look up, meeting my father’s eyes for the first time in…God, has it really been twelve years? My smile grows wider. “I’m proud of you, Dad,” I tell him. “I’m glad you are sticking to the case. You’re right- Kira must be stopped. If anything ever happens to you, I will make sure Kira gets executed.”

Soichiro looks surprised, but pleasantly so. I’m struggling to keep eye contact, but my heart rate begins to pick up, and I blink and look away. My name was listed in English that time- Light Yagami. I’ve always found it odd that my name is Light, of all things. Compared with my eyesight, I’m not very ‘light’ at all. 

“Thank you, Raito,” he says, and I know it’s not just for what I said. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Almost immediately after L caught onto the hours that killings took place in, Kira started to mess with him, as if saying, “Am I a student or am I not, you fool?” 23 criminals died yesterday, and the day before, and if I’m right, 23 more will die today, on the hour. Kira must have access to the Police Investigation. There are four others, aside from me, that I know of that would have access to the Investigation that is a student. But I doubt any of them are killers. Besides, they don’t really have access, like me, they’d have to hack into the database, but none of them are bright enough to get past all the firewalls. 

This is getting tricky, I think, looking over my test scores. Perfect, as usual. I fling them onto my bed, disgusted. My mother was so pleased, and I’m sure Dad will be, too, whenever he finds time to come back home. He’s probably still getting used to the FBI agents that were sent by the US President yesterday.

Sighing, I lean back in my chair, hearing the music- in Russian, this time- play throughout the room. I’m so tired. My place in To-Oh University is pretty much guaranteed, so I have no reason to study. I don’t have any cases to solve for the police; I solved them all about two days ago. I feel a headache forming, so, to relive it, I allow my eyes to relax and change to their natural red. I know that it’s risky, but I don’t really care right now. 

I stand after a minute and walk over to my window. I blink at the sunset. It’s beautiful, but altogether uninteresting. My eyes look over at the other houses, and the trees, the power lines. I look at the street, tracing the gravel with my sight, and catch sight of a lone figure across the street. I blink, feeling the red glint fade away as the man meets my eyes. I don’t know him. Is he an FBI agent, or does he work for L? Or the NPA?

I glance at his name- Raye Penber, 16 years, 11 months, 14 days, 3 hours, 42 minutes, and 21 seconds counting down. He’ll die young, which is, while not altogether surprising, it is upsetting. However, working as a police officer, no matter which company they work for, always has their risks. I wonder what will kill him?

Just to freak him out, I grin stupidly and wave at him, and he looks down. I start to laugh and close the curtains, but not before I see him scribble something down in his notebook. Good, let them think what they want. If this goes back to L, all the better.

I’m still laughing when I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I don’t know when I fell asleep.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

“Light?” my mother calls, the next morning. “Can you come down here, please?”

I roll my eyes and turn off my T.V. “Coming, Mom,” I call back. What does she want now? I wonder, going downstairs.

She smiles at me, and hands me a list, as well as 3000 yen. “Do you mind going to the store, dear? I need these things for dinner, and I have to clean up the kitchen in the meantime.”

“Okay, Mom,” I smile. I’m not looking directly at her, but rather at her numbers, watching the seconds tick by. Each second marks one less moment of her life, and I know I have to leave- now. I woke up in a bad mood anyway, thanks to my new stalker, courtesy of the police. “I’ll go now,” I say, and turn around. I leave the kitchen swiftly, biting at my lip. I run up stairs, grab my music and jacket, then rush downstairs again to leave. My keys in my pocket and music blaring in my ears, I walk to the bus stop not far from here.

The bus comes round after a few minutes, and I get on. I recognize Raye getting on behind me, but I ignore him. I know he knows that I know he’s there, so why bother to publicly recognize him? I’m not the only one on the bus. There is a man dressed as a lawyer, and a few other students around my age. There is an old couple sitting in the back. I recognize them all as people who live around my neighborhood or go to school with me, but they don’t know me as an antisocial recluse. I don’t greet them, and sit in the back of the bus, Raye taking a seat behind me.

Just as the door starts to close another man gets on. I can recall him being on the news…  
Kiichiro Osoreda. He failed to rob a bank the other day and shot a teller and two customers. What’s he doing here?

His intentions become slightly clearer as he puts a loaded gun to the bus driver’s head and tells him to inform the rest of the busses that this one has been hijacked. He also tells the rest of the passengers to remain still, to stay in their seats. I don’t intend to move. While I don’t really mind the thought of dying, I’d rather my death not be today. But something doesn’t feel right. He takes the phone from the driver and tells the person to have someone bring him cash. He says no tricks- he’ll kill us all if they don’t give the money up. Somehow, I find this guy hard to believe. 

Nevertheless, Raye seems to think this guy is for real. He leans forward, and says, “When he turns around I’ll take the gun from his hands.”

I blink slowly. The guy in front of me, the lawyer, leans back slightly and asks, “How do we know this guy isn’t the hijacker’s accomplice?” 

Raye apparently overheard. He pulls out a badge and shows it to both of us, “I’m Raye Pender, FBI. Here’s my proof that I’m not his accomplice.”

I look at the badge, interested only because it’s an American agency, and then show it to the man in front of me. He smiles, and there is something almost sinister to the say his eyes flash. “Okay,” he tells Raye, “I guess for now I won’t ask what an FBI agent is doing on this bus.” He shoves the badge back at Raye. I stare at Raye’s picture, watching the numbers tick down. Then I look at Osoreda, who is coming towards us. The man in front of me is leaning down to get a piece of paper that fell from his pocket.

Osoreda comes back to the man in front of me and yells, “You there! Stop moving, and give me that piece of paper!” The lawyer lets him take it, and he reads it, finally tossing it over his shoulder with, “Huh! A shopping list!”

I stare at my hands, ignoring the exchange. Osoreda turns to me, seemingly about to say something, when he puts his gun up, pointing to the back of the bus, his hands shaking with fear. “What are you? How long have you been there? What are you planning?” he cries desperately, and I turn, afraid of what I’ll see. But there’s nothing there.

I hear Raye whisper, “He’s hallucinating!” just as Osoreda fires every bullet in his gun. A few go through the window, which shatters on impact, and others get stuck in the metal structure of the bus. I wince with every impact from the bullets, my heart rate picking up. I’ve only ever heard guns on television or in games. The real thing is much worse, making it seem a little surreal. 

Osoreda backs up, shaking with fear. The gun slips through his fingers and clatters to the floor. He grabs a hold of the driver and screams, “Let me off this bus! Let me off!” and the driver complies. The bus screeches to a halt, and Osoreda is out the door faster than anyone else I’ve ever seen. What scared him so badly?

I look out the window as Osoreda stumbles to the ground beside the bus, scraping his hands on the gravel. He looks up with a cry, and a car’s screech echoes through the street. There is a clatter, and the car is imbedded in a lamppost beside the bus. Osoreda is dead in a pool of blood just underneath my window. I gulp, and barely realize that the lawyer slips off the bus.

Raye gabs my arm, as I am immobile from shock, and leads me away. I lean on him heavily, unable to tear my gaze away from the car crash.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I hear- through hacking, of course- that the twelve FBI agents, Raye included, are killed seven days later. I didn’t know the man very well at all, but his death still brings a wave of grief. I can’t imagine what his family feels like, or any of the other FBI members’ families, for that matter. I’m really starting to hate Kira, and everything he stands for.

It is clear he has strayed from his original goal in an effort to stay hidden. Maybe he is just playing with L, and the Task Force. I don’t know.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy. Thanks for all of the positive response, guys.

Dad comes home for dinner again a few days after the deaths of the FBI agents. I sit down at the table, avoiding my Dad’s slightly hopeful gaze. I’m still horribly embarrassed by my stunt the last time he was here. I honestly hadn’t meant to meet his brown eyes. 

I know he’s disappointed. But I can’t bring myself to give him what he wants. 

He starts talking, “Work has been stressful lately. We had most of the team walk out on us after Kira killed a few of the other members of the team. We now only have five people on the team, including me, and excluding L. It is very disappointing.”

“I can imagine so,” my mother agrees. “But if you are killed as well?”

“Then I am one more who was sacrificed in the attempt to catch Kira!” he declares, and I grin at my plate, which, once again, has the food barely touched, saved for being pushed around. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

My headache is outrageous. I pull my eyes from my homework and drop my pencil onto the desk. I glance outside and see decent enough weather- I think I’ll go for a walk. I need a break. Sighing, I stand and make my way over to my closet and pull out my jacket, pulling it on while is slide the door shut. It shuts with a soft click when I have my jacket all the way on. I toe on my shoes and turn away from the door of my closet, zipping the zipper and pulling out my music. I wrap the earphone cord around the back of my neck and stuff my hands in my pockets after I leave my room.

I hear Sayu and Sachiko arguing before I make it the whole way down the stairs. I roll my eyes as I enter the doorway to the living room, watching them for a moment. “-T? Does it have to be now?” Sayu whines, a cracker in her hand. She is staring at Mom incredulously, as if she cannot believe that what she just said. 

Mom’s voice is stern when she replies, “Your father’s been pulling over-nighters with no change of clothes! So, you’re going to bring these to him.” She holds a bag in her hands, and pushes it towards the teenage girl impatiently. 

“But, Moooom!” my sister whines again in response, “I already promised my friends that I’d go out with them today!”

I step into the room, asking, “Why don’t I go?” They both turn to face me; Sayu’s face hopeful and my mother’s impatient, “I could use a break,” I confess.

Immediately, Sayu’s face breaks out into a large grin. “Thanks Raito! I owe you one next time!” My mother faces her, frowning, as Sayu bites her cracker.

Sachiko sighs, but agrees.

I smile and take the bag from her, heading out the front door. I pull my hood up over my head and look towards the ground, the bag on my arm as I walk down the street, towards the police headquarters. Not many people are out today, I notice, so I’m able to get there much faster than usual, not having to wait for a break in the usually long lines of cars, or for the crosswalks to become available.

I take out my phone when I’m only about a block away from the station. I flip it open, blinking at the screen before pressing the buttons to get to ‘contacts’. I scroll down the line- my mother, Sayu, and some ‘friends’ from school- until I reach my father’s number. I press ‘call’ and hold the phone to my ear, hearing it ring while I walk. I can see the station now. I frown when the machine tells me that the call is unable to go through, that the number has either been disabled or the phone is off. I know it is not the former, so it must be the latter. Maybe he is in a meeting of some sort? 

I close my phone and slide it into my pocket, and look up. The sky is gray, so it will probably start snowing soon. I can’t wait- the snow usually calms me down. I have no idea why. I glance back down at the sidewalk, catching sight of the station as I do so. I jog across the street, the bag bouncing lightly against my hipbone, and I slow down to a walk when I reach the other sidewalk. I grab a hold of the door and pull it open, feeling the warmth of heated rooms blowing in my face. 

A woman is in the police station. She is talking to the secretary, demanding to see someone. The man continuously denies her, saying that whoever it is isn’t there, and that they won’t be for some time. “Please,” she says slowly, like she’s at the end of her wits. “I need to speak to someone directly from the special investigation task force. It’s urgent!” This last line is rushed, and she slaps her hand lightly on the counter top as if to prove her point.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the secretary apologizes, “but I can’t help you. As I’ve already told you, there is no one here from task force headquarters right now.” She sighs, exasperated. 

I blink slowly, recognizing that, if no one is in from the task force headquarters, then they must be in a meeting somewhere with L. I wouldn’t doubt it. “Can’t you contact them somehow?” she demands, and I get the feeling that this is not the first time she’s asked this question. “Tell them I have special information pertaining to the Kira Investigation!”

I begin to walk forward, just as the man says patiently, “Look, I’ll call one more time for you, if you’ll wait just a moment.” He picks up the phone and dials a couple of numbers while the woman stands waiting. 

I pointedly ignore her when I walk up to the other side of the desk and place the bag on the counter. “Hi,” I say, falsely cheerful. “I’m Detective Soichiro Yagami’s son, Raito Yagami. I’ve brought my father a change of clothes, but it doesn’t look like he’s in. Can I just leave them here?” 

I know I can, so I am unsurprised when he says, “Sure! Hey,” he adds, “I haven’t seen you around here for a while, Raito-kun.”

“Um,” I blink, and then glance upward from his shoulder to his name. It falls into place immediately. I remember him, as he was here when I helped solve cases in the past. 

He takes my lack of response the wrong way. “What you don’t remember?” he asks, voice thick with disbelief. “You helped solve the Insurance Fraud Murder Investigation. Sometime last year.” He removes the bag from the counter, “But hey, no one remembers the receptionists, do they?”

I mumble some excuse involving not being good with faces- which is, of course, bullshit and scribble my name down on the paper on the counter. “So Raito-kun, does this mean you’re going to help us sometime with the Kira Investigation, too?”

I glance up in his direction, and reply, “Sure. If all goes well, maybe I’ll find Kira before L does.” I hope.

The phone clicks. “As I thought, there is no one at headquarters right now. You’re going to have to trust me on this, ma’am. I’ll be sure to give them your message as soon as I see them, I promise.” What good, I wonder absently, is a promise from a stranger?

“That’s not good enough!” she cries. “I have to tell them in person!”

I glance at her one more time. I briefly mull over helping the woman out, but when some father-son couple walks in behind me, I decide against it, and turn, then walk out of the station without looking back.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I check into the police database again, barely noticing as my bag falls to the carpet with a soft thunk. The first thing I notice is a new case- a missing person was filed earlier, while I was in school. I double click on the file, and a picture comes up, along with all of her information. She’s pretty, I think, noticing her long black hair and typical Japanese facial features. She’s got a nice smile. The only thing that isn’t so nice is the lack of name and lifespan above her head, which means she’s dead.

And it isn’t hard to figure out her killer was. As I read over the information, a few things stick out to me. The first is her name- Naomi Misora. The second is that she was a former FBI agent. The third detail is that she once worked for L directly, on her own, while on probation. Together, the two of them had solved a case involving three murders and an attempted suicide. LABB Murder Cases, apparently- it has a very catchy name. The final detail I notice is that she was engaged to Raye Penber. That, clearly, and her intelligence, are what prompted Kira to kill her. He could play it off as a suicide. But she must’ve discovered some vital Intel that could’ve brought him down. What was it?

Then I remember. I think back to the day I brought Dad clothes, and I feel a sting of guilt. That was her. That woman demanding to see the Task Force was Naomi. Maybe I could have saved her. Whether I could’ve or not, it doesn’t matter. She’s dead, and there is no turning back time. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

When I get home a few days later, the first thing I notice is that there is something different. It’s not really anything I can pinpoint, but namely just the general atmosphere of the house. I call out, despite knowing that no one is home. I go upstairs to my room, my eyes glancing at everything on the way there. Then I notice what it is. Two things tell me that someone smart was in my room.

The first is the angle of my door handle. It’s at a 180-degree angle, rather than at the 190-degree angle I naturally place it at. At first, that habit had been simple paranoia on my part- a typical teenage act of defiance. Then, as the years went by, it became more of a habit than anything else, and I have to admit- it has come in handy. My mother sometimes goes in there to take out my trash or leave some sort of surprise on my bed while I’m at school. I always know that something has been changed in there, anyway.

But this time, I know it wasn’t my mother. I know this because of the piece of paper in my door frame- it had been put back in place. My mother never notices it, so it’s usually on the floor inside my room. 

It takes me all of two seconds to notice these things, and in that time, I haven’t stopped walking normally, nor have I given any reaction to the disturbances. I reach my door and slip inside, catching the paper slip as it falls and placing it on the bedside table where I normally keep it. I know, as soon as my door is closed, that I am being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I struggle greatly to keep my eye color under control. The eyes are normally what alerts me to these things, and sometimes I appreciate it. I don’t know why they warn me; perhaps it is some sort of instinct that is caused by whatever Supernatural power these eyes are normally associated with. Like now, for instance. If I had let myself go, as I usually do when I am alone, I would have had my secret blown. All of my hard work and careful avoidances would have been for naught, and there would have been nothing I could do.

But I know that there are cameras in my room. They’re all over the house, I bet, and that is what is causing the change in atmosphere. I lower my gaze to the floor and drop my bag, pulling off my jacket. I hang up my jacket and sink into my chair. I stare at nothing for a good three hours, thinking about nothing and everything all at once. My music is blaring in my ears; my bottom lip is between my teeth, drawing small dots of blood that I drink up all too eagerly. I know L put the cameras in, and I know they are primarily in my room. This is slightly upsetting. This means I am under suspicion of being Kira. My only question is why. Why am I a suspect, of all people? Life really isn’t fair.

I’m jolted out my thoughts by my door slamming open and Sayu telling me loudly, “Dinner time, Onīsan!” and bolting down the stairs. For a moment I’m stunned, because she has never, ever done that before. I stare stupidly at the door, and I can just hear L laughing his ass of at my expression. I pull myself from it, though, and place my mask back in place. I blink several times as I make my way downstairs, having barely blinked at all in three hours. I’m almost certain they are red-rimed and bloodshot. “Hideki Ryuga,” she says loudly, “I swear he’s perfect! How come no one in my class is like that?” she wonders aloud.

I glance into the living room, and suddenly Sayu’s odd behavior makes a whole lot of sense. Her new favorite movie star, Hideki Ryuga, just released his latest movie and it is premiering tonight. I almost want to shoot the T.V. Almost. “Com’on, Sayu, come eat,” Mom calls.

“No. I can eat later,” she replies, curling up really close in front of the television. Ryuga’s face appears on the television, and he’s drenched from rain. I really want to shoot the television when he goes on and on about how much he loves the girl standing across from him. I wonder how the actors actually feel about making movies like this. Probably ridiculous, and just a tad suicidal. 

Instead of putting a metaphorical bullet in the movie star’s head, however, I sit down at the table and stare at my food. I pick up the chopsticks and pick at it a little, and my mother finally- finally- notices that I barely eat at dinner anymore.

“Ratio, dear, you need to eat. You can’t just keep picking at your food like this. What’s wrong?”

I take a minute to answer, sticking the chopstick into a piece of chicken then watching it slide off. “The whole thing is making me nervous,” I answer.

My mother is about to further inquire about my cryptic reply when Sayu lets out a loud whine. “Noooo…. Mama! They interrupted the movie- eh? What…? The ICPO say, that in response to the Kira murders, they, Interpol, have sent 1500 agents to Japan to investigate Kira?”

“The ICPO is clearly just stupid. That is obviously fake,” I say before I can think about it. Sachiko and Sayu both turn to look at me, confusion lacing their expressions. I feel the tips of my ears heat up, and I duck my head slightly, before I look at the T.V. “I mean, that’s just a trap. The Task Force wouldn’t be so stupid as to announce if reinforcements were here. It would make much more sense to just keep that a secret, so that Kira couldn’t get to them at all.” I pause to think about that. “At least, I surely hope they aren’t that dumb. That would worry me greatly if they were. Just think- if there really are 15 hundred agents here, and they announce it like they just want Kira to pick them off, it’s like they’re asking to die. And this is the government we place our trust in? Dear God, we’re all going die.” I laugh to illustrate my point, and both ladies relax. How do you like that, L? I think sourly. “And, the agents that were sent here previously were investigating in secret, so, this is just a plan to shock Kira into giving away some vital clue.”

My mother turns to my plate again, and to escape her words, I stuff a mouthful into my mouth. She smiles at me, and I swallow, but it all tastes like lead. I grimace.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX 

Four days later, I walk into my house, and immediately, the tension leaves my body. The cameras are gone, and the constant pain behind my eyes evaporates, like it was never there. I hadn’t realized how much pain I was in, with my stiff posture and anxious vibes. I walk upstairs, and instead of going to straight for my room, I throw my bag at my bedroom door and walk into the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and lean heavily on the granite counter, the palms of my hands on the edge of the round bowl sink.

I haven’t properly looked at myself in days. I look sick. There are slight circles under my eyes, and the blaring red orbs looks sunken in and dull, while, at the same time, alive and wild. My hair is still shiny, though, so that’s a plus. The bones on my wrists are starting to stick out, just barely noticeable. My sharp cheekbones are more prominent than ever before, and my lips are chapped and torn from my teeth biting into them at all hours. I really should eat more, but the murders and my father’s constant absence has me worried, and so, everything I eat makes me want to throw up. The cameras had me climbing the walls in fear. I don’t know how many there were, or where, but I assumed they were placed strategically around the house so there were no blind spots at all. I just hope they didn’t miss any when they were removed.

I blink, and, my upsetting thoughts, as well as the terribly depressing music that is playing, makes a few drops slide from my eyes. I haven’t cried in years, but the relief of finally being alone after what feels like forever is just too much. I open the door to the bathroom and slip out, my head down. I scoop up my bag and slide quickly into my room, locking the door behind me. I then to sink to the floor without any more thoughts, and let myself release the pent-up emotion that has been building for nearly thirteen years. I’m silent, but my shoulders shake and my chest heaves, leaving me gasping for breath. I have forgotten what a break down like this feels like, and I love it and hate it all at once. 

Little do I know, is that there were five cameras in my room still there, and one had a clear view of the door. In a hotel, several miles from here, L watched the whole thing play out in shocked, regretful, silence. I also don’t notice when they’re removed the next day, while I’m out.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Because of my break down, I feel much better all week long. It is like all of my problems had disappeared with the cameras. Not true, of course, but it is a nice thought. I keep on thinking it as I make my way into the To-Oh exam room, which is filled with other hopeful students and some adults who mingle and chat with each other. I ignore them all, taking my seat at the selected desk and listening to my music through one ear bud, the other hanging around my neck so I can hear the examiner when he tells us to begin. 

We don’t wait long. I turn off my music as soon as he tells us to begin, which is shortly after I take my seat, and I open up the test booklet and flip over my answer document. My eyes fall onto question one, and I take a deep breath, then mark the answer.

Barely twenty minutes pass before the examiner tells someone behind me to, “sit normally.” What? I think in disbelief. What the fuck does that mean? I turn around to see who was causing the disturbance, and my eyes fall onto a disheveled young man- no older than myself, surely- who has his knees drawn up to his chest and his thumb in his mouth. He is clearly not Japanese, his wide eyed- gaze and rounded face tell me that. He has dark, messy hair that falls into his steel gray eyes and it practically defies gravity. He is wearing a white shirt and blue jeans, but no shoes. He’s pretty, I suppose, in a child-like way. Curious, I look above his head, and nearly drop my pencil in shock.

I know immediately who this is. He’s clearly very clever, throwing his real name around so carelessly and telling everyone it is an alias. This is L. I hadn’t expected that to actually be his name, though. He probably has a sense of humor, one that is not easily caught by the average person. L Lawliet, I think, turning around, you’re here for me, aren’t you? 

“Please, sir, if you don’t start your test and sit normally, I will have to have you escorted out,” the examiner tells L. 

“I’ve already finished the test,” L replies testily, his monotone voice carrying back to my seat. It’s very soft, quiet, but has no emotion in it at all. There is a clear mask in place.

The examiners splutters, “There is no way you could have finished this exam in twenty minutes.”

“Ah,” L says, “But I did, clearly. Take a look, if you wish. But, if that means I have to leave, then I will.”

By now, most of the other test takers are staring. The examiner looks miffed, but L seems entirely oblivious to the blatant attention. Flustered, the examiner takes the test from L’s slack two-fingered hold and looks through it, scanning every answer. His disbelief is clear when he sets it down on the table. He raises his hands in defeat, and walks away. L smirks- a tiny, barely noticeable expression- at his retreating figure. Then L looks at me, and I look down quickly at my paper, my heart racing. I cannot meet his eyes.

It takes me another ten minutes to finish, and, aside from L, I’m the first one done. I stand, and everyone looks at me in disbelief as I walk up to the examiner and hand him the documents. I flash him a smile, then leave, picking up my belongings as I walk out the door. L doesn’t follow me.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX 

It is four months before anything of real significance happens. Not that there weren’t any big events in my sister’s world, oh no. She went on and on yesterday about Misa Amane, an up-and-rising model, appearing in her favorite magazine, and then, moving to Tokyo. Like I care, I kept thinking, while I practically did her math homework for her. 

Kira keeps on killing, at random intervals, it seems like, and Misora has not been found. I am slightly concerned- it has been nearly half a year, and Kira has not been caught yet. He must be some sort of genius, covering his tracks and fooling L like this. 

I lean my forehead on my desk, not having any real desire to leave the warming comfort of my room and talk to a bunch of stupid people who somehow made it into To-Oh. I stay there, seriously considering just taking off my suit and tie and just going to bed right now. It sounds really appealing, actually. My head is already beginning to pound at the thought of seeing all the bright red names and numbers, blocking out any of the students’ faces and blinding me completely. Every time they move, I’ll see it, and I really don’t want to deal with that. God, there have to be near three hundred people at least…

My mother knocks on the door just as I reach for my tie, and I groan quietly into the wood of my desk, but lift my head anyway. “Almost ready, Raito?” she calls, sounding eager for the presentation. 

“Yeah,” I call back, opening my door. She beams at me, looking really proud in her black dress. Sayu is just behind her in a similar garment, her hair tied into a bun atop her head. My father, I know, is already in the car, in a suit similar to mine. They will be in the back of the crowd, listening to me go on and on about what great school year this will be, yada, yada, yada….

The drive there is quiet, thankfully, and my parents hadn’t even noticed that I had snuck my music player with me. Sayu did, though she has her own with her, too, so if she values her life, she won’t say anything about mine. My parents had specifically told us both to leave them at home, but I know Sayu could care less about this whole thing, and I won’t listen to anyone else speak. We need something to occupy us.

We are standing outside the entrance, after a few more minutes and my mother smiles at me one more time before she and rest of my family disappear into the crowd. Well, I think, looking around at the throngs of people and the falling peach petals, I’m finally in collage. I would have been excited if not for the whole thing with Kira going on, and the pounding headache I have from the bright red letters- in kanji, and English, mostly- and the numbers constantly changing underneath them. I turn when a car pulls up behind me, and L himself steps out of the limousine. Well, then. Of course, he is the other representative. I would expect nothing less. The people start moving in, and I disappear inside with them before L can notice me. 

I take my seat and slip my ear buds underneath my suit’s collar, where it will not be seen. The device itself is in my suit’s inner pocket. None other than L himself occupies the seat beside me, and I see he hadn’t bothered to clean himself up for the event. The whole thing makes me laugh under my breath, because I know he will have to speak with me. I look around the room while the Principal of the school greets us all. The whole speech goes in one ear and out the other. They have several other students go up there, people I guess have been at this school a while. I spot about six different people with guns and I’m certain that there are more in the crowd, hidden as students for L’s protection. 

“And now, for the freshman address, representative Yagami Raito, and…” he frowns at the paper, “ representative Hideki Ryuga.” The name comes out more like a question, and the whole crowd falters their applause a little at the recognizable name. Nevertheless, both L and I ignore their reactions and step upstage. 

L takes up the speech cards like they’re poisonous, holding them delicately between his thumb and forefinger. I bet he hasn’t washed his hands since the last time his thumbs were in his mouth, either. I try hard not think about it, picking up my own cards and reading the words written like I’m telling a story. I make sure to look at the crowd, even though every instinct I have is screaming for me to look away. L stands slightly behind me, reading the text at an impossible speed, over and over again. He’s probably memorizing it so he can let the cards go as soon as possible. 

But he doesn’t. I finish my speech and we trade places. When it’s his turn to read his speech, he reads it in a perfect monotone, never once looking up. He holds it the same way as before, and lets them fall back on the podium as soon as he’s finished. He steps back next to me, and I notice his feet are bare. He still has no fucking shoes on. The Principal’s smile is slightly strained when he concludes our speaking part, and L scratches his ankle while he stands there, looking down, hands stuffed in his pockets. The Principal repeats our names- well, my name, not L’s, as I’m sure I am one of only maybe six people who know it- and we both step down. I’m really tempted to trip him for being such an asshole, but I know I would pay for it later. 

I take my seat, and L perches in his –honestly, does he do anything normally? –and I am taking out my MP3 player when L leans in close to me. I look at him, wondering what the hell he wants, and whisper, “What?”

“Light?” he whispers back, “Light Yagami. Your father is Soichiro Yagami, Chief of the NPA. Your respect for you father is matched only by your strong sense of justice. You’re planning on joining the police force when you graduate, and you’ve already got experience, as you’ve helped the police solve a number of cases in the past, and now, you’re showing an interest in the Kira case. I’m impressed by your abilities and your sense of justice. If you promise not to tell anyone about this I have important information regarding the Kira investigation that I would like to share with you.”

Not really interested, as I already have an idea of what he’s going to tell me, but knowing he’d expect me to be curious, I answer, “I won’t tell anyone. What is it?”

He looks at me more closely, and gets even closer. He whispers, like it’s this big movie and he wants the crowd to wait, “I want to tell you, I’m L.”

I really, really just want to whisper back, I know, but that would be really stupid. Instead I turn my head to face him more fully, looking over his shoulder slightly. “If you are who you say you are,” I reply, “then you have nothing but my respect and admiration.”

L doesn’t blink, nor do his eyes reveal anything. I know he is curious as to why I’m not looking at him. “Thank you,” is all he says. “The reason I chose to reveal my identity to you is because I believe you will be of some help to us on the Kira investigation.” He puts his thumb to his mouth, and I can almost see the gears turning underneath that mop of black fuzz he calls hair. 

I blink and look down. “I’ll think about it,” I mumble, and he looks away. I know he was testing me. I know I’m probably under suspicion, and Dad already knows who L is. I don’t put my music on, and instead just wait out the rest of the ceremony. I know I won’t remember anything but this tomorrow anyway. 

Later, when the speeches are over and people are mingling, I step outside to take a breath of air. The sun is near the west, now, signaling it’s around five pm. Right on time. I look around and duck behind a pillar, then take out the headache medication I had slipped into my pocket before I came here. I swallow it in one gulp and leave my hiding place, and run right into L. Just my luck.

“Hey, Light-kun,” he says, “Nice meeting you.” His tone is much friendlier now; more like a friend would talk to another friend they’re not particularly close to.

Why does he call me Light, and not Raito? Is English his native language? It would make sense, since his name is in English. Is he from the United Kingdom, or the Unites States? “Oh no, the pleasure was mine,” I reply, forcing a smile on my face. He blinks at me, and then walks away, and the limo pulls up in front of him. The driver gets out and opens the door for him.

“What an amazing car,” I hear another student say. 

I look at him, my face blank, and his friend continues, though not to me. “A limousine?” he questions.

L gets my attention again my mumbling, “Uh, well, I guess I’ll see you on campus.” He gets in the car.

I blink slowly and reply, “Yeah. Take care.” He nods to me, and the door closes him inside.

The other students continue talking, and I can tell they are envious. “That kid must come from serious money,” the first one says.

“Yeah, and he’s at the top of the class? Where’s the justice?”

Right under your fucking nose, I think, just as my parents and Sayu show up with smiles on their faces. L’s car drives away.

 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Two days later, I’m sitting on a bench with a textbook and my notebook, reading things I already know and taking notes I took a few years ago. Collage is turning out to nothing special at all. It’s just a more advanced version of high school with slightly smarter people. Of course, only L is on my level, and so far, he hasn’t showed up yet. It’s like he entered only to get a look at me, which would be no surprise. 

The campus is beautiful. There is a long walkway made of gray bricks that weaves between the buildings and leads to doors that shield the different classes. The main walkway is the one I’m near now, and it’s lined with benches every few feet. There are a lot of peach trees all over campus, and the bench I’m sitting on is right beneath one. The petals drift down into my hair and onto my textbook, but I don’t really mind. Lots of others surround me, all of them between classes and mingling. Some people- mostly girls, looking for their Mrs., I’m sure- have approached me, but I just blew them off without actually saying, “Fuck you, leave me alone.”

A shadow is suddenly blocking my sunlight, and I really just want to smack whoever it is with my book, right upside the head. That would send a message real quick. I look up, my fingers curling around the book to do just that, but I stop when I realize it’s only L.

“Hello,” he says. He’s dressed the same as always, but he actually has shoes on this time. They are ratty old sneakers that have probably seen better days. They are covered with dirt, masking what had to have been a sparkly white several years ago, and the shoelaces are untied. I would say that I cannot believe it, but I actually can. They match his personality- seemingly uncaring, dirty, and weak, when underneath the dirt, he’s most likely anything but.

“Hi,” I respond. “You’re blocking my light.”

He blinks then moves to sit next to me- perch; rather- and his shoes are left on the ground at his feet while he curls himself into a crouch beside me. “How would you feel about a friendly game of tennis?” he asks. “To get to know one another.”

I’m not entirely sure what you can determine from a game of tennis other than if the other person is very good or not and whether or not the opponent plays dirty, but I agree anyway. He nods and slips his shoes back on after he stands up. I pack my things into my bag, and we walk in silence to the tennis court. There aren’t any other people there, but of course, we haven’t gotten permission to use the court, either, and I doubt anyone else did. 

Both of us ignore this detail and change into sports wear in the men’s locker room. It is deserted aside from the both of us, but that is to be expected, of course. It’s clean; at least, unlike both my high school and elementary school locker rooms, both of which had dirt in the corners, bad paint jobs, and the occasional bug crawling through the lockers and showers. This room has none of that. It’s a crisp white color, and the lockers are actually a good size. I find my gym wear from my bag and L does the same. Neither of us bothers with changing in the showers- we just change in the middle of the room then walk out. 

The supplies to play tennis are just outside, on the edge of the court, on the inside of the high gates. L stands there, next to me, staring at me curiously while I bend to get the rackets. When I grab a racket for myself, I thrust one in his general direction without actually looking up. “Ow,” he mutters, and I look up to see him rubbing a spot on his arm. I mutter an apology and shove the rackets around some more, looking for a tennis ball. Of course, I think, they’re all at the bottom of the damn crate.

“I must admit,” I say, straightening, “I’m surprised at you, Ryuga-kun. I never though you’d ask me to play tennis as a way to get to know each other.”

He doesn’t blink. “Is it a problem for you?” he questions.

I shake my head, handing him the ball. “Not at all. But, when you asked me to play, did you know how good I was?” I glance at him from the corner of my eye as I being to walk to my side of the court. He jogs a little to catch up to me.

“Yes, I’ll be fine though,” he replies. “It’s been a while, but at one time I was actually the British Junior Champion.”

“Ryuga-kun, were you raised in the UK?” I ask. 

“I lived in the UK for a while when I was younger,” he says, “but save your breath, nothing in that story would reveal L’s true identity, I promise you.” I don’t need to look, I think sourly, glancing upward at the ever-present L Lawliet above his head. I knew he would probably say something hinting to my being Kira. “Since it’s our first match, why don’t we play a single set?” he suggests. “First one to six?” 

He bounces the ball on the ground, getting ready to serve. “Fine by me,” I tell him, the whack of the ball signaling it coming in my direction. It soars right past me, and I blink for a moment before stand up straight again. “Whoa, Ryuga-kun,” I say, “You sure don’t mess around.”

“He who strikes first wins!” he replies, and I hit the ball right back at him.

This goes on for a while. Neither of us misses, and it goes back and forth over the net for quite some time. Eventually, a crowd of students comes to watch us play. They surround the cage, pointing and whispering in amazement. “Are these two really amateurs?” one asks, fixated on the ball. “Who are they, anyway?”

His friend replies, “I think they’re Yagami Ratio and Hideki Ryuga. These are the same two guys who scored perfect on the exam.”

We play for a few more minutes. I’m getting slightly tired, now, and I know it has to end. I also know that whatever I do, it’ll raise the Kira suspicion on me, so…

I whack the ball, hard, to the opposite side of the court that L is on. He runs very quickly, but doesn’t quite make it. It lands at his feet just as he tries to hit it with the racket. He stands and looks at me while the crowd cheers. A man says, “That’s four games in all, Yagami Raito for the serve.” I blink and look over. When the hell did they set up an umpire? Never mind, I think, as I serve the ball.

A boy comes running down the stairs, panting, to meet his friends- the same ones who were talking behind me before. “You won’t believe this,” he tells them. “I thought I’d heard the name Yagami Raito before, and so I checked. He was the youngest 02-03 Junior Tennis Champion. Apparently, during the third year award ceremony, he announced that he was hanging up his racket. I guess he hasn’t played competitively since then.”

A girl says, “Hey, hey, hey, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed Ryuga holding his own against this former Junior High Champion.”

I tune out after that. L’s got this really intense look on his face, and I know he’s thinking somewhere along the lines of… “If Light were Kira…”

The only thing I can think of is going to the Task Force HQ because I know I’d want a conformation that L is L if I didn’t already know for certain. I’d want a third party to say that he’s L, someone I trust. Thus- the Task Force.

I blink and the ball comes soaring at me. As in all things, I think to myself, one cannot win with defense alone- to win, you have to attack. I run up to hit it, and the clank of the ball hitting the metal net of the racket echoes throughout the court. L rushes to get it, but falls short, and the ball bounces off behind him. He turns to me, face blank, and I grin at him. 

We hang up our supplies and get changed. The crowd has mostly dispersed by the time we leave the courts. I scoop up my bag and walk alongside L, down the main stone pass between the peach trees. “Just as I expected,” L mutters. “You beat me.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to play that hard,” I confess. I glance at him, and just as he lifts his head to meet my gaze, I look away to the front. “I’m feeling kinda thirsty. Plus, there’s something I wanted to ask you about.” I watch as the shadows fall over us both when we walk under a tree. “You wanna go somewhere for a drink?”

L doesn’t miss a beat, “You humored me with a tennis match,” he says. “The least I can do is answer some of your questions. But before this conversation goes any further there is something I must tell you.”

I glance up, and our gazes meet for the first time since we’ve met, even if it is only for a second before I look downward slightly. His eyes are darker than I thought, and in that brief moment, I saw my red eyes flash back at me. My heart is racing. “What’s that?” I question, glad that my voice betrays nothing.

“I suspect that you, Light Yagami, are in fact, Kira.” This I knew. “Now,” he continues, “If you still want to ask me something, then please, go ahead.” 

I stop walking, and L continues on for a moment before he realizes this. Then he turns around, a question in his eyes and all over his face. But I merely let out a breathy laugh, before asking, “You think I’m Kira?”

“Well,” he confesses, “When I say I suspect you, it’s only a one percent possibility.” One percent my ass, I think. “That aside, I don’t mind telling you that once I’m sure you aren’t Kira, and I can verify that you deductive skills are as strong as I think they are, I’d like nothing more than to have you work with me on this investigation.” He turns around, apparently done with his little speech. He begins to walk away, and I wait a minute before following. One percent, huh? He is such a liar. I’m sure it’s more like 89% or something of the like. No matter, with that he can still prevent me from meeting that Task Force and catching the real Kira. 

Kira has caused me so much trouble lately- both emotionally and environmentally, and I would like nothing more than to see him on the electric chair.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

We walk down the street, away from To-Oh. We don’t go far, because L steers me into a coffee shop that I’m very familiar with. I’m surprised he picked it, but I have no complaints. I come here often when I need to think, away from the often closed- off environment that is my bedroom.

The bell dings above us when we walk in, and the woman behind the counter, Yushi, smiles and waves to me. I grin back at her, and grab L’s elbow lightly. I lead him to a small booth in the corner. Fake plants surround it, but the plants in the shop accompany most booths. There is a window above them, but it is high enough so that outsiders won’t see us. The booth itself is placed in a way where we can hear everything around us, but they can’t hear us.

I tell him all of this, and add of jokingly, “Not to mention it’s so closed off no one will give you a hard time about the way you sit.”

He speaks around his thumb, “I don’t sit like this because I want to; I have to sit like this. You see; if I were to sit normally, my deductive reasoning abilities are automatically reduced by roughly forty percent.” He cuts himself off when the coffee arrives, and I thank the waitress. L, on the other hand, takes the cream from the bowl and opens them one by one, dumping them all into the coffee. I blink, astounded. I’ve never seen anyone put so much cream into coffee- or any other drink, for that matter. But something tells me this is normal for him. “So what was it you wanted to ask me?” he prompts when I keep staring for about a minute.

I look up, and then reach for my coffee, saying, “Right. I’m sure that can wait until you’re convinced that I’m not Kira. So, please,” I invite, closing my eyes as I take a sip of my coffee, “let’s talk about whatever you want to.”

L stares at me the whole time, unmoving, and unblinking. If I didn’t get used to things so quickly, I would have been very unnerved by now. “You are under no obligation to do this, but would you mind submitting yourself to a test of your deductive reasoning skills?” Straight to the point, then.

“Sure, why not?” You’ll submit me to it anyway, I think, placing my cup on the saucer. “Sounds like fun.”

L starts digging around in his pockets, then pulls out a couple of sheets of paper and places them on the table. “Alright then. We can begin by taking a look at these,” he says, and shoves the papers towards me.

I look at the papers, and recognize them almost immediately. These are the photographs of three notes that were written from Kira’s victims just before they died in jail. “Photographs of three notes written by prison inmates while under Kira’s control just prior to their deaths. None of this information has been made public.” Of course not. “You can take as long as you need to look them over, please, tell me what you think.”

I reach over and drag the cards to the edge of the table so I can get a grip on them, then I bring them up to my face. I know that I’m hiding my eyes, so, for a moment, I let them flash red. It relieves some of my now-constant headache, since I’m always in danger with L around, and there is no escaping him. 

I take a good look at all of the photographs, and figure it out almost immediately. There is a print number on the back of the photographs. If I ignored it, and still came up with, ‘L, do you know, Gods of Death love apples?’ what would that mean? Clearly, if I read it the way Kira intended on my first attempt, I would only look more suspicious. I just wish L would believe me and look elsewhere for Kira. Nevertheless, the code from the photographs isn’t enough to tell L that I am Kira- it just shows that I have good deductive reasoning abilities. “It would be quite amazing to learn that Kira could not only kill others, but could also control his victims before their deaths- I think, based on that, Kira had the victims write these, and send a direct message to you. It’s like he’s mocking you…” I trail off and lay the cards on the table, still staring at them. Then I point out the message, still thinking over my idea. I tell L about the Gods of Death, and how, if you line up the cards, it tells that message. Then, I point out the card numbers, and rearrange the cards to spell out, ‘L, do you know, love apples Gods of Death.’ “That doesn’t sound right, so it’s hard to believe Kira would want you to read it that way.” 

If Kira could control his victims, does that mean he killed Osoreda? I blink, and, as L leans forward to take the cards, I grab them and look them over once more. I find nothing, though, to support that idea. Nevertheless… “L, you don’t suppose Kira can kill in other ways than a heart attack?”

L, for a moment, looks stunned. “What? How did you come to that conclusion?”

I stare at the cards still, nervous about revealing my idea. “Well, on December 9 last year, there was a bus hijacking. I was on that bus- and you can verify this with my parents and Sayu, as well as the other passengers- I was there to go to the store to get ingredients for dinner. The bus was hijacked by a criminal that was broadcasted a couple of days before that. He was called Osoreda, and he had failed to rob a bank and he shot three people during his escape. If Kira can control his victims before their death, what if he controlled Osoreda when he was hijacking the bus, and then killed him by having him be hit by a car? Because that’s how he died- he jumped off the bus when it was stopped, stumbled, and a car crashed into his head. If that was Kira’s doing- than it was an experiment, and that’s how he knew he could do something public like this,” I’m rambling slightly, I know. I gesture to the cards when I say the last sentence, to prove my point.

L doesn’t say anything at all. He just stares at me, as if he couldn’t believe what I just said. Then it hits me- “And I bet Naomi Misora came to a similar conclusion that I just did, and that’s why she’s missing. Kira killed her in a place where she would never be found.” There, mystery solved.

He stares at me for a long time, and I eventually do get very nervous. “Well?” I prompt. 

“I will have to look into that, Light. That is a brilliant conclusion, one I can’t believe I didn’t think of before.” I grin slightly, pleased with the praise. “We were looking into the disappearance of Miss Misora just recently, actually, and we did reach the possibility that she was killed by Kira.”

He tilts his head to one side. “However, addressing the photos- you were incorrect.”

What? No I wasn’t. There is no other way to read the cards, and I looked over them three times. Seeing my confusion, L pulls out a forth card from his pocket and lays it on the pile. “The thing is, there were actually four photographs, and when we add this one, it reads, ‘L, do you know, Gods of Death who love apples have red hands.’”

I look up at L, then down to the cards. Why hadn’t I seen that? “That may be,” I concede, “However, I had only three cards to work with, so my deduction was perfect.” And it was, I know that. There is no way it could be anything else.

“No,” L says patiently, “it wasn’t. The truth is, there were four of them. If you’d figured that out, it would have been perfect. Even though you knew the message was incomplete, you decided that there were only three notes. You never even considered that there might be a forth. What do you make of that?”

Damn. Sometimes, I wonder if the gods who gave me these eyes really hate me. I keep on falling into L’s hands, and at this rate, I’ll never meet the Task Force. “Ah, well, you got me there,” I tell him, knowing it’s the truth. Nevertheless, it stings my pride to say so. “Still, the chances of this leading you to Kira is not very great. Besides,” I add for affect- I’m just straight up lying to him now- “we all know Gods of Death don’t exist.”

“If you were me, faced with someone who might be Kira, how would you go about establishing this person’s innocence or guilt? You have to be absolutely sure.”

“I would get him to say something that was never made public in any way,” I say around my cup. “Something only Kira would know. Kind of what you were doing just now.” 

He blinks. “Truly amazing. What’s incredible is that I’ve asked several detectives that same question and it took most of them minutes to even come up with an answer.” Really? That doesn’t surprise me, somehow. A lot of people are really quite stupid compared to you and I, L. “But you, you immediately thought of the scenario in which Kira is speaking directly to the investigator. I’m impressed. You’ll make a fine detective, Light-kun.”

“A double edged sword, though, isn’t it? The more impressive my answers, the more of a suspect I am,” I mumble sadly. He heard me, though.

“Yes, though, because of your idea concerning Kira’s method of killing, it’s only at about 1.8 percent. I am also that much more determined to work with you on the investigation. You see; I am in a position where, if you were Kira, it would still be to my benefit to have you working alongside us.”

“So, you want me to cooperate to allow the investigation to move forward, and if I’m Kira, I might reveal myself. So weather I’m Kira or not, you stand to gain either way. It’s a very smart move on your part. But, I think you might be getting the wrong idea. While it’s true I do have an interest in the Kira case, and yes, detective work is a hobby of mine, I know that I’m not Kira, and I certainly don’t want to be killed by him. Besides,” I add, again for affect, “what proof have you given me that you yourself aren’t Kira? I mean it hardly seems fair for just one of us to be investigated, don’t you say? At this point, neither of us can prove that we’re not Kira, however if you are in fact L, I don’t imagine it would be that hard for you to prove it to me. I think I would be convinced if, say, my father or someone else from the Task Force Headquarters was able to confirm your identity. If you can’t do that, then I’m afraid I just won’t be able to help you.”

“I don’t remember saying that you couldn’t meet anyone from Task Force Headquarters to verify my identity. I am currently working alongside you father as well as several other detectives from the NPA. Now if I understand you correctly and I take you to Task Force Headquarters you will help us with the investigation.”

Score, I think smugly. Now that I’m into the investigation, I can lead them in the right direction. I’ve already given L one clue, and I bet it’s one he’ll ponder over all night. L reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone as it starts to ring. “Excuse me,” he says, opening it and holding it to his ear. “Yes?”

My phone goes off moments later. I look at it, mumbling, “And there goes mine.” 

My mother’s voice sounds on the end of the line. She sounds terribly distressed, and I wonder what’s going on. “Raito,” she tells me, “You father has had a heart attack!”

I look up and I find that L is looking at me, and he says, “Light-kun, your father has…”

I cut him off. “A heart attack.”


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer vacation started, and so now I'm stressing out because I have nothing to stress out over. Sorry I didn't update sooner (I really have no excuse because this thing is already posted on ff.net already- like fuck-) but my mind just blanked with the sudden loss of reasons to fret.  
> Anyway, enjoy.

My father had been rushed to the hospital. It was nearly dark when L and I left the café; we had been talking longer than we had originally thought. L had called up Watari- whose name is really Quillish Wammy- and he drove us to the hospital my father was taken to. I was anxious the whole ride there, sitting in the back of the limousine with L next to me. He didn't provide much comfort, but I was grateful that I wasn't going to my father alone, even though L is practically a stranger, despite how safe I feel around him.

We were silent for the entirety of the ride, and I just sat, looking out the window at the passing buildings and the people on the sidewalks, oblivious to the turmoil we were going through. I watched the red flashes streak along the tinted blackness of the glass. I could see L watching me in my reflection, and when I met his eyes through the reflection, I smiled at him. There was no heart in it, but I think he understood my meaning.

I held his gaze for a while. It was easy, since I wasn't looking directly at him. I knew there was a careful mask in place, so he couldn't read my thoughts. My eyes didn't flash red, and I couldn't read my name in the black depths. I read it in the reflective glass, of course, but there wasn't anything I could do about that. The kanji characters swam above my head, becoming warped every time we passed a light outside.

When we pulled up to the hospital, I broke our gaze. Watari assisted us out, and I raced into the busy building, right up to the front desk, L and Watari right behind me. "Yagami," I told the woman, and she nodded.

"Room 765," she informed us, and I took off.

Now I'm sitting beside my Dad in the room, and L is curled up beside me in his own seat. The room is small and white, and my Dad has the room to himself. There are a couple of paintings hung on the walls, adding a splash of color to the room. Behind me, there is a table with a television on it, facing my father, and cabinets locked up tightly below. My mother is standing by the door, talking to L and I. "Okay, see you tomorrow. Have him call home if you need me to bring anything," she says, looking at Soichiro. "Raito, take care of him, okay?" she requests.

I nod, "Sure, Mom." She sighs and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her. I stare at the door for a moment longer, and as does L, his thumb to his lips. L and I turn simultaneously towards Dad, both of our faces carefully blank. It's kind of creepy. Nevertheless… "So the doctors think stress was the only cause?" I ask Dad, allowing some emotion to leak into my voice. I don't like opening up myself anymore than necessary around the odd detective beside me, because I know every move I make is being watched and analyzed to completion. One wrong move and I'll be locked up for being wrongly accused as a mass serial killer.

"Yeah," he tells me, and I relax somewhat. I was so afraid that Kira had caused it, or some other problem with his health. "To be honest, I thought it was Kira when I first collapsed, but I'll be alright. It seems I've been pushing myself a bit too hard lately."

"Indeed," L agreed. "It must've added to your stress knowing that Light-kun is a suspect in the investigation."

I turn to him angrily, and snap, "You actually told my father that?"

"Yes," he says blandly. "In fact I've told him everything. It's true he even knows that I am L."

I turn to my father in disbelief for the nerve of this guy, but my father takes it the wrong way. "That's correct," he says. "This man is L." Like I care right now, I think. "To protect his identity, we on the Task Force refer to him as Ryuuzaki, but make no mistake- it's him. So, Ryuuzaki," Dad turns to L, and L focuses on him, rather than the white wall he had been staring at. "Now that you've had a chance to talk to my son, is he cleared of suspicion?"

"When I say I suspect him, you should know it's very minor," L replies. "There is little chance that Light-kun is Kira. We've gone over this but I'll explain it again. Not long ago, Kira killed 12 FBI agents that were sent to Japan to assist us." He turns to me. "They were instructed to follow people connected to the Japanese police. One of the agents, Raye Penber, exhibited unusual behavior before he died."

"I understand," I press, crossing my arms. "I was one of the people Raye Penber was investigating before he died. It only makes sense I'd be a suspect. Oh, to be precise, there is no one else you could suspect."

And that is my problem. I'm the only one connected to the police who is smart enough to out-do L as Kira has done. And, I'm one of the people Raye Penber was investigating. But, I am not Kira, and I can't seem to get through to L. He doesn't understand that I don't have any reason to kill these people- criminals or no- nor do I have any real drive to kill, even without a motive. I'm reminded of the painful truth that we are mortal everyday, every hour, every minute. I don't want to reinforce that.

"I find Light-kun's deductive powers quite impressive," L interrupts my thoughts. "He is always quick and to the point."

"Ryuga-kun, I'd like to help with the investigation," I tell him. "My father has erased any doubt I might have had" there were none, "regarding your true identity. Also, I'd like nothing more than to catch Kira, so I can prove I'm not him."

"No, Raito," my father says quietly. "This is a time in your life when you should be studying to become a police officer. It won't be too late to join us once you are done."

I don't believe it. My father is telling me no? I don't recall asking for his opinion on the matter. Not to mention, "Com'on, Dad, what are you talking about? Who knows how many years that'll take? Besides, don't you remember my promise? That if something ever happened to you, I would hunt Kira down and make sure he gets executed." I look down at the bedspread, knowing that I'm acting like a child. But, technically, I still am one. I'm not twenty yet.

"Light, listen to me. Kira is pure evil. We can all agree on that. But recently I've started thinking of this whole situation in a different way." My father's eyes close. "What is truly evil is the power to kill people. And anyone who has come to posses this kind of power is cursed. No matter how you use it, no true happiness can be obtained like that. Not by killing other people."

"I think you're absolutely right," L says, and we both turn to him. "If Kira is just a normal person, who somehow obtained this awful power, I would say that he's cursed."

My father sighs slightly. "Ryuuzaki, I am sorry for all of the trouble. I'll be back in work as soon as the doctors let me out of here."

L looks surprised at my father's comment. He looks like he's about to respond, but a nurse comes in and says, "Excuse me, visiting hours were over ten minutes ago." Bitch.

Still, L and I stand up and I give my father a quick hug before following the wayward detective out the door and down the hall. We walk in silence, passing several doors along the way. A new woman occupies the secretary's desk when we pass it again, but she doesn't look up from her crossword puzzle as we pass. I break the silence just as L makes it out the door. "Ryuga-kun," I mutter, and L turns, still quiet. "What would it take for you to believe that I'm not Kira? Please, isn't there something?" I'm ashamed to be reduced to begging, but I can't think of anything else to do. L is like a rock- immovable and impossible to see through.

L's eyes widen a fraction. "If you aren't Kira it won't be necessary," he says. "Let things run their course and the truth will be revealed."

"I can't take this anymore!" I tell him desperately. "Put yourself in my position, how do you think it feels to be accused of being Kira?"

L looks down slightly before answering, "It is one of the worst feelings ever."

Really? I wonder. This guy must be a fucking genius, I think sarcastically. "What if you were to lock me up in someplace for a month with no T.V. or any other kind of access to the outside world and keep and constant watch over me?"

He shows no reaction to the suggestion. "That's no good," he tells me. "I can't do anything that would deprive you of your basic human rights. And furthermore, it is complete nonsense for the investigator to take suggestions from his suspect." L gets in the car, and Watari closes the door. He rolls down the window and speaks to me through the gap. "Don't worry so much, be patient, it will become apparent to us if you are not Kira. And listening to that conversation between you and your father, I was almost convinced you might not be him. Light-kun, please take good care of Mr. Yagami."

L pulls back, and just as he rolls up the window, I say quickly, "And one more thing. I know I agreed to help with the investigation, but I don't think I will be able to do much until my father is healthy again."

"Yes, of course," he replies, and the car drives away, leaving me alone beneath the shrouded stars and artificial lights from the hospital entryway. As I'm standing here, I feel that same cold feeling, swirling around the bones of my spine and between the plates, seeping into the crevices and chilling my entire body.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

My father is still in the hospital when the Kira case progresses. My mother is in the hospital with him at the moment, while Sayu is downstairs watching a movie of some sort. I, however, am in my room again, fighting off another migraine and vaguely listening to my own television while I lay face first on my bed. My eyes are closed, and I am curled up tightly, my hands pressing hard into my temples. I have already taken an overdose of the migraine medication, but it isn't working.

I haven't seen L since that night when we visited Dad. That was eleven days ago, and I admit, I miss his company. I have no one to talk to, aside from acquaintances such as Kiyomi Takada. I'm thinking of asking her out, since she is fairly intelligent and is very beautiful. But she is not L, who, while I cannot talk to him freely, I can be more of myself than with anyone else. He challenges my mind, rather than boring me. It's a nice change, one that I think I got used to far too quickly, seeing as my standards have been raised and I can barely tolerate the people I used to talk to in High School.

A sharp pain breaks my thoughts, and I groan, pressing my temples more and curling up tighter. A few tears leak from the corners of my eyes from the pain. Still, a few words from the T.V. break through to my foggy mind. "In other words, all of the reporters and staff here are being held as Kira's hostages," the announcer says grimly. Despite the blinding pain in my head, I sit up and try to focus on the television. It's blurry at first, but that is to be expected, I suppose. "Aside from that, we have a professional obligation to share this message with you. I assure you that this is not a hoax, and that Sakura TV is not airing this tape for the purposes of sensationalism.

"Four days ago, our program director here at Sakura TV received four tapes. After a thorough examination, there can be no doubt that they are from Kira himself." The announcer pauses for dramatic effect, probably, and then continues, "The first tape we received contained a prediction regarding the time of death of two suspected criminals who have recently been arrested. And, as predicted, at the exact time that Kira had specified, both men died suddenly of heart attacks yesterday. Kira has instructed us to air this second tape" the screen flashes to a picture of a video tape sitting innocently on a table, then switches back to the announcer at his desk, "at exactly 5.59pm and we do intend to comply with his demands. This tape should offer proof of his powers by predicting yet another death. Beyond that, we understand that is contains a message to all of the people of the world from Kira." Really, now? I wonder what Kira has to say. "And now, the video."

The screen blanks out for a moment, becoming an off-shade of white with letters spelling out 'K-I-R-A' in the center, similar to what L himself had done when confronting Kira after his stunt with Lind L. Tailor. There is a moment of background noise and shifting, signaling that Kira might not be used to this sort of thing. Then a computer-altered voice is heard on the recording, telling the world what Kira has to say.

"I am Kira," he starts, and I can't help but think, well, duh. "This video is being aired on April 18th at exactly 5.59pm as I requested, then the time now is 5.59, 41, 42, 43, please change the channel to Taiyou TV. The news anchor Mr. Kasuhiko Hibima will die of a heart attack at exactly 6.00." I reach for my remote and change the channel, not at all surprised to find the news anchor dead at his post. People begin to crowd around him, clearly unaware that he was just killed by Kira. A man waves his hand in front of the camera, and I change the channel back.

"I will present you another video." Another jolt of pain makes me lose the rest of the sentence. When I hear correctly again, Kira is saying, "Scheduled to appear in a live broadcast, he too, has dared to defy Kira." I missed the channel and the victim, but, no matter. I got the point- Kira is now killing people who work against him. He really has gone insane.

"Now that you've seen proof of my powers, you should have no trouble believing that I am Kira." Not at all. I'm fairly certain that this is Kira's work, or at least some version of it. Honestly, I am wondering when L will try to stop the broadcast. I glance at my computer, then decide to pull up the live news broadcast, to see what they have to say.

When it's up, I see that the video feed is directly outside of Sakura TV's main building.

"People of the world, listen to me," Kira says, "The last thing I want to do is kill the innocent. I hate evil, and love justice. I've always thought of the police as allies, not enemies. I intend to create a new world, a world that is free from evil. If you all agree to join me on my mission, I know we can make it happen, and as long as no one tries to catch me, I promise the innocent will not die. Even if you don't agree with me, all I ask is that you not publicize your views in the media. If you can do that, you will be spared. All you have to do now, is be patient. I will create a better world that we can all enjoy. Say goodbye to the world as you know it. Soon, we will have a new world, ruled by benevolence, with only kind-hearted, honest people. Try to imagine it," he urges, and I feel bile rise up in my throat. "a world where the police and I~" I turn off the TV and throw my remote onto the bed beside me, leaning back.

Kira has no right to try and suggest that he and the police force are the same. They are similar, this is true, but not the same. The police don't kill people without knowing the circumstances surrounding the crime, after all. I do agree with Kira in some ways- that major murders and rapists and terrorists should die for their crimes. They are horrible people, after all, and society would be fine without them. But still- Kira is a criminal himself- killing people is never the way to go about things. People will inevitably die anyway, so why bother? You're just condemning yourself, anyway.

A high-pitched noise comes from my computer, and my head throbs in response. Dear lord, why does my head hurt so badly? I ponder this as I stand on shaking legs and move to my computer chair, which I collapse into. I lean forward, my elbows on the desk and my head resting on the inside palms of my hands, my tired eyes watching the screen of the computer, which is playing the news.

A man- Hirokazu Ukita- is getting out of a police car. He's a short man with a tame haircut, wearing a police uniform. He runs up to the doors of Sakura TV and begins to bang on the glass, and, when that method fails, he digs his fingers into the crack between the doors and tries to pry them apart. All the while, he is screaming for them to allow him entrance. He informs whoever is guarding the door on the inside that he is a police officer and that he demands entrance. This method fails as well, so, apparently quite frustrated, he pulls his gun and levels the bullet hole with the locks on the doors.

Then he freezes up, and the guns slips from his fingers. He falls to his knees, then crumples further to the floor. He's dead, I notice, looking at the numbers that had dropped from roughly twenty more years of life to zero in a few seconds. But how did Kira kill him with just his face?

"We interrupt this program to give you live news from just outside Sakura TV. As you can see, someone has just collapsed outside the door. Again, we're coming to you live from the Sakura TV building."

If Kira can kill with just a face now, does that mean the whole Task Force is going to die? I don't like that thought. That would mean that my father and L would die, and then where would I be? On a sudden thought, I turn my TV back on and look turn to my screen again.

I look closely at the news broadcast, figuring that Kira would be near the building, or watching the doors with a camera.

"And now I need a response from the police. You must decide weather or not you will help me create a better world for all of us. Please announce you decision on the 6 o'clock news in two days. I've prepared two videos; one to be aired if the answer is yes, and another if the answer is no."

Another siren sound comes from my computer's speakers, and I notice a large police van come speeding down the road, past Ukita's car and body, and it goes straight through the doors. The glass makes a large shattering noise that hurts my sensitive ears and I see the shards fly everywhere. They are scattered along the ground, sparkling in the artificial lighting. Well, I think drowsily, that's certainly one way to get through the doors. "A vehicle has just driven through the front doors of the station," the news broadcaster announces. "We're still outside Sakura TV," she continues. Two more police cars drive up to the scene, and I wonder if they have a death wish. "As you can see, a police car has just arrived." And I was right. Both men from the cars collapse just as soon as they leave the safety of the tinted windows. "Two men have just collapsed outside on the sidewalk. I think we might be in danger," she says, and the image begins to become a little fuzzy. They are moving the camera. "We're moving away from the scene."

The crew moves the camera far enough so that they won't be killed, but I can still see the scene. Roughly five minutes pass without incident, then I hear several sirens, and I have to turn down the volume of my speakers. I watch as several dozen police cars drive up, and line up in a semi-circle around the entrance. Police officers with masks over their faces pour out of the cars. I can see why they would do this. I can still read each of their names, but Kira has always needed a face to kill. The officers give out several orders, and shift their numbers so that the door is completely concealed from cameras.

"Listen up," someone says, "there is a very good chance that Kira is still in the vicinity of the station. As you move out, proceed with caution, you are not to remove your helmets."

"There you have it," another news announcer says, "the police refuse to cooperate with Kira. Instead, they are preparing to fight. And, as much as I fear for my own life in saying so, this is right. And it must be done. Kira has become a threat to our very constitution, and, as citizens, we must fight back. I am NHN's Golden News Anchor, Kobi Takibaga."

Well, then, I think. My head gives another painful jolt, and I close my eyes as tears leak out of the corners of my blazing red rubies. What the hell…?

I turn my TV and computer off, partly because I think they're done for tonight, and partly because I can't think straight and it would just aggravate my migraine. I get up from my chair and my vision blurs for another second, before I get my bearings and land heavily on my bed. I position myself so that my head is on my pillow, and I'm facing my window. My curtains look like blobs of color rather than fabric, and they seem to bleed into the cream color of my walls. I close my eyes and the pain lessens just a small fraction. I don't know how long I just lay here, curled up like a child, thinking of nothing before I fall into a dreamless slumber.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The next morning when I wake, my migraine is gone, and I thank every God I know of for it. Chronic migraines are something I have always gotten- I think they are another price for the sight I have. I seriously don't know why I have to have the damn things in the first place, but I have them and there isn't anything I can do about it.

Still, the migraines were something I would get once to three times a month, not every other day as I do now. And even then, they had never rendered me as helpless as I was last night. I could think through them, and I could move with only a little dizzy spell when I stood up too fast. But now, it seems like I cannot do anything with these. For the first time in my life, I thank my photographic memory because I would not have remembered a thing that the news and Kira had said last night if not for it.

I wonder what L thought about it.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the wait.

Only a couple of days later, the Task Force and L released the videotape that indicated their refusal to cooperate with Kira.

“I can only say that it’s a shame that the answer is no. It’s clear that the police wish to oppose me. This will not go unpunished. So, I will start by taking the lives of the Director General of the NPA or the detective known as L, who is currently leading the investigation against me. The Director General, or L? Who will be the price for your refusal in the cooperation to create a peaceful world? You have four days to decide.”

I watch all of this from my bedroom, my eyes blazing red and fixated on the television. I know I have to get onto the Task Force before Kira gets to L. I have to keep track of Kira- I can’t let anyone die. 

I also have to keep track of this Second Kira. I know that this isn’t the real Kira- he isn’t ever this bold or direct. I can tell by the way his moves are always through action only that he doesn’t prefer direct contact. However, this Kira is the opposite. So far, they have made their views public, and have communicated with L through speaking. Not only that, but Kira doesn’t bother with lowly criminals- petty thieves or small-town manslaughters. No, he goes for the big guys- rapists and serial killers or mass murderers. Kira has no need to prove to anyone that he is who he says he is by using insignificant criminals. The Second Kira had to go for small criminals who he knew wouldn’t die by the Real Kira’s hand. I’ll say its roughly 75% chance that this Kira isn’t real. If L can get his hands on this fool…

He’d win the case.

I just wish I could get onto the Task Force. I know that most of these killings are Supernatural, things that are out of the ordinary that aren’t proven by facts, which are what L relies on mainly. But I know all too well that magic and ghosts and some sort of Gods exist- they have to for this case to be possible. I know that I, given the opportunity, would look at every possible answer, scientific or not. L won’t, considering his -more than 90% likely- atheism, and cold, clean mind.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I did not sleep last night. I’m still sitting here by my window with my headphones in my ears and a mystery book on my lap called The Thirteenth Tale. An American author wrote it, but I just ordered it online one week and am now reading it for the seventeenth time. The sun is coming up over the mountains and buildings, creating a light-hearted atmosphere that reflects my neighborhood, and I can’t help but feel at ease. It makes the shadows seem more open- the ones that appear during the day always are. The ones at night are the ones to be afraid of. Or, rather, what’s inside the shadows.

The oranges and reds streak across the sky, and they hurt my eyes, but I don’t look away. This is the first time I’ve actually stayed up all night, and I don’t feel tired. It’s very strange. I look to my right, at the crevice in my bookshelf where my book should be, then close said book and shove it in the hole. Then I turn to my left, eyeing my desk, which, unusually, is messy. My homework is all over the desk, with crooked papers and my penholder was knocked over sometime in my pacing the night before. I sigh.

My fingers itch to go and clean it up, but I don’t move. I stare out the window instead, watching people’s shades through their windows as they prepare for their day. I had no idea so many other people were up at sunrise. Or rather, 5.10 in the morning. Dear God, I think, staring at the numbers. My alarm clock doesn’t ring for another fifty minutes, and I know I won’t really do anything productive with the time. I close my eyes and shut my curtains, blocking a good deal of the sunlight. 

I open my eyes, knowing that they’re my natural crimson, and lay out some clothes for the day- my nicest set of jeans, and a white button down shirt. I stare at them for a minute, imagining a person wearing them, and what they would look like to an outsider, with the red eyes and all. I block the image from my mind.

Jaw tight, I step out of my room into the dark hallway, and walk over to the linen closet, from which I grab a towel and washcloth. My sister doesn’t get up until six-thirty, and my mother won’t wake until five-forty, so everything is dark and unwelcoming. I walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. The small window above the toilet allows a bit of light in the small room- just enough for me to see without assistance from the light bulbs. 

Half numb, I reach over and turn on the water, hearing it hit the bottom of the tub as if through a wall. I rest my towel on the top of the toilet and rest the washcloth on the bar that holds up the shower curtain, which I also close as a second thought. It slides along the metal with a sharp zing and the curtain’s blank white picture unfolds. 

I strip and step under the hot water, feeling all of my muscles relax under the spray. I really shouldn’t have such morbid thoughts so early in the morning, but I can’t help it. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

After my shower finds me sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at my closed closet doors with red eyes that haven’t gone away all morning. Not that I’ve tried. I prefer to allow myself to relax. My mother had woken just after I finished my shower- she had caught me in my towel in the hallway. To avoid questions, I had ducked my head and disappeared very quickly into my room, but I am sure she believes that I was embarrassed. It’s partly the truth, anyway. I don’t want my mother seeing me in a towel.

Because of that, I did not go downstairs for breakfast, which I am now regretting. I stand up and walk over to my closet, opening it and bringing my jacket off of the hook. I pull it on over my clothes and grab my MP3 Player from my desk, which I had organized a little while after my shower. I stick the ear buds into my ears and go to turn on the device, but am stopped by my phone ringing.

I roll my eyes and pick it up off of my bed. I take a quick glance at the caller ID- Blocked number. L’s calling, then.

“Hai?” I say into the phone, pulling one ear bud out and replacing it with my flip phone. I stuff my music player into my jacket pocket and grab my wallet from my bedside table. I pause on opening my door when my father’s voice comes through, rather than L’s.

“Light,” he says, and I sit down on my bed, “Ryuuzaki has decided that he would like for you to help with the investigation. If you’re still interested, then you need to come here right away.”

“Okay, Dad,” I reply, and the line goes dead on his side. I shut my phone gently, then place it in my pocket and replace my ear bud. I turn on my music and walk out my bedroom door, down the hall and down the stairs. My mother and sister don’t see me when I walk out the door. I feel my eyes turn amber again.

Thankfully, L pulled the stick out of his ass and invited me onto the team. About time, considering I have dropped hints that I would like to help him all along. He’s just too suspicious, with his percentages and other nonsense. I do the same thing, though, so it’s not like I can talk. 

I make my way across the street into the more populated area of my neighborhood, where all the stores and heavily used roads are. People ignore me as usual, so I meet no trouble when I sit at the bus stop. 

I truly wish I can be of some use to L in finding Kira and sending his ass, as well as the Second Kira’s ass, too, to the execution table. I need to find the Second Kira quickly, before he can get to any of the Task Force members. I’ll also have more information on the case, so I can see if I can figure out how they kill, since I am well educated when it comes to the Supernatural aspects of this thing. Unless it really is a god, in which case there is nothing we can do, but I doubt it; the possibility is less than .02 percent.

The bus comes and I get on, reading the driver the address to the hotel they’re staying at that Dad texted me after the call ended. The driver nods and my eyes flash to his lifespan and name- this guy will die later on today. A car accident, maybe.

I sit in the back of the bus and rest my forehead on the glass window beside me; unable to think of anything other than the last time I was on the bus. I can still hear the man crying out as the car hits him, sometimes, and, of course, my thoughts turn to Raye Penber. 

I’m jostled out of my thoughts when I catch sight of the hotel the Task Force occupies. The bus driver pulls to a stop and I hand him the correct amount of change after leaving my seat, quicker than I thought I could. I’m off of the bus before he can thank me.

Crossing the street is easy, and so is getting into the hotel and up to L’s floor. The hard part comes in when I realize the numbers on the doors have no set pattern I can see right off the bat. I don’t really care to find out what it is, but my mind figures it out anyway- all the odd numbers are on this floor, and every time there is an even number as one of the numbers that make up the final two-digit number, they place it on the left side of the hall facing west.

Annoying, but I’m sure it was just something done by the construction workers as a joke.

L and the Task Force are in room 79, all the way at the other end of the hall. Of course, I think, can’t have L right next to the elevator. I go down the hallway, and after two minutes of walking, I reach his door and knock quietly.

My father opens the door quickly enough and I smile at him, noticing that his lifespan has decreased in the right amount of time since I saw him last. He sighs when I make no move to look anywhere other than his lifespan; though he doesn’t know that’s what I’m looking at. He steps to the side and I walk into the room. “This is my son, Light,” he says.

The room is very plain, with cream-colored walls and two windows. Sunlight filters in through them, and the rays shower everything with a bright, red-orange-yellow light that creates shadows in every crevice. There is a table with a television placed directly between them, with two chairs facing it. To the right, there is a bed that looks unused, which doesn’t surprise me at all. On the left is a small seating area, complete with a couch, a loveseat, two chairs, and a coffee table in the center. The coffee table is littered with sweets, and I can see L perched in the chair facing the left wall, scanning all of the food. He looks up when my father announces me, and then he stands, making his way over to me.

When he’s directly in front of me and we shake hands, I stare at the name L Lawliet flashing above his head. The sunlight makes it very hard to read, and the letters seem to fade. “Thank you, Light,” he tells me, trying to catch my eye. I refuse, and he eventually gives up. 

“Not at all,” I reply, smiling, “After all, I want to catch Kira as much as you do, Ryuga-kun.”

“I’ll have to ask that you call me Ryuuzaki here,” he reminds me. 

“I’m Matsui,” someone says behind me. I turn slightly, and see he is lying. Touta Matsuda flashes in bright red above his mop of dark hair and friendly face. The man next to him, I see, is called Shuichi Aizawa, who is quite tall, with a stern face that is slightly off-put by his large Afro hairstyle. Beside Aizawa, is another tall man with an overall quiet vibe, and I can see his name is Kanzo Mogi. 

“I’m Aihata,” Aizawa informs me. 

Mogi does the same, “And I’m Ahsahi.”

Aliases, all of them. L really doesn’t trust me, does he? I wonder sadly. 

“Yes, of course,” I say instead, turning to L, “Then I suppose I should call myself Raito Asashi?” I question.

“Yes, please do,” L replies. “To keep things simple from now on, I’ll call you Light-kun.” Like you didn’t already, I think to myself, frowning inwardly. “Okay let’s get down to work. You can start by looking over all of the information we’ve collected.” He starts to walk away, and after a moment, I follow. “I’d also like you to examine these videos, they were sent to the TV station but were never aired.” He gestures to a seat in front of the television and I sit down, still staring at him. “For security reasons you are not permitted to take notes, and all materials must remain here.”

“I understand,” I tell him.

“We will begin now,” L says loudly, and starts the tapes. I find it odd, but unsurprising, that no one bothers to explain. It’s clearly a test.

They’re very interesting, but they mostly prove things I already knew from watching the live broadcast. There is a Second Kira, and this Kira wants only to get the original’s attention first. The Second Kira can kill with only a face. 

L comes up next to me, finger in his mouth, and speaks around it, “So, what do you think of this, Light? Have you come to any conclusions?”

I knew it- it is a test. I stand up and face him, looking at the TV. “It’s hard to say for sure, but there might be another person out there with Kira’s power,” I tell him, knowing it’s the truth, and lying when I say it’s hard to tell. Anyone with a brain and observation skills could tell this Kira isn’t real.

My father jumps onto that, and I can tell there is a hopeful lit to his tone of voice. “With Kira’s power?” he questions, “But what do you mean by that, Raito?”

I turn to him, and stare out the window behind him, at the setting sun. I jerk my thumb at the TV screen and explain, “At the very least, I’d say this tape was not created by the Kira we’re familiar with.” I lower my hand to my side. “It’s extremely out of character for him to use these kinds of victims for his killings. And, since we’ve established that he needs a face and a name to kill, it makes you wonder how he was able to kill that detective and those two officers right outside the television station like that.”

“It- it’s the same,” Aizawa says in awe. 

“That’s almost exactly how L- I mean, Ryuuzaki said it,” Matsuda agrees. I glance towards my father from the corner of my eye and see his elated expression. Looks like I gave the right answer, then.

“I think you’re exactly right about that,” L says, and I look in his direction, staring at the now clear name above his head. “We also believe that this is the work of a Second Kira.”

“So you knew about this all along, Ryuga, oh, sorry, Ryuuzaki,” I ask childishly, crossing my arms. “So that means this was just another one of your tests?”

“It wasn’t my intention to test you,” L claims, and I think stubbornly, bullshit. “The truth is, if I was the only one who thought there was a Second Kira, it wouldn’t be too convincing.” Which is true, I suppose. L may be able to start or stop a war with a few words, but really, no one knows him, and people are starting to lose their faith in his abilities. A shame, really, but it just goes to show how stupid society can be, never focusing on the big picture. “But that fact that we both came to the same conclusion just makes the theory that much more believable. As expected, you did not disappoint us. You’ve been a great help.” He lowers his head a little, then declares, “It’s decided. First we must focus on stopping this copycat. From what we’ve seen, he sympathizes with the real Kira but clearly lacks his sophistication. I think he might even be willing to obey the original. If so, we could lure him into a trap by sending our own message from the real Kira,” he finishes quietly.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” I say. “You literally took the words right out of my mouth.” It’s a great idea, I finish in my head.

“Oh and, Light,” L adds, “I’d like you to play the part of the real Kira.”

I feel my eyes widen, and the heat begins to build behind my eyes. I force it back. “Huh?” I question. “Me, as Kira?”

“Yes, you’re the only one I can think of who would be able to pull something like this off. At any rate, we don’t have time to waste. Do you think you could script a message from Kira in time for it to be aired on this evening’s national news?”

I nod. “Yeah,” I agree. “Absolutely.”

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Hours later, my head is pounding and my heart is racing. I hate doing this. I really, really do. I don’t want to play the part of Kira. Still, when L comes in and looks at me curiously, I wave him over and add a final touch to the script. “Ryuuzaki, does this look okay?” I ask, masking my hesitance with a confidence I don’t feel. “I think I managed to make it believable.”

L is holding the paper to his face in that weird, two-fingered hold of his. After a moment, he lets out a little hum, then, “I think you’ve done an excellent job with this. However, if we don’t omit the part that says, ‘You’re free to kill L’ I’m going to end up dead,” he finishes, looking at me over the top of the paper, half amused, half upset. 

I laugh, unable to help it, as some of the weight falls off of my shoulders with his approval. “Sorry,” I apologize, “I guess I got carried away playing the part. I figured if I were him I’d demand that you’d be killed.” I lean back in my chair, folding my hands behind my head, and I say, “I was improvising. Feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

“Okay Aihata,” L says later, when we’re all in the hotel room again. “The script is ready, I’ll leave it to you.”

“Alright,” Aizawa responds, and turns on the news channel. The screen flashes bright colors into the room, which had been previously lit only by the yellow-orange glow of shaded lamps on the tables and L’s laptop screen. I blink in the brightness, but focus on the screen. I hope I’ll be able to stay awake during it- the pain in my head is so intense I can barely think, and my anxiety isn’t helping matters at all.

“And now, a shocking announcement,” the reporter says loudly. “In response to the frightening Kira video aired on Sakara TV, only a few days ago, an anonymous individual has contacted us claiming to be the real Kira. In short, he has demanded of this network, as well as several others, that we air the message you are now about to see. I would also like to mention that the NPA has granted us permission to air this video. Is this the real Kira? No one knows for sure. But we can only hope this video will provide us with some much needed answers.”

“I am Kira,” the clip announces in a synthetic voice. The font is different, as well as the background- both are much more elaborate than the original video clips sent by the Second Kira. “The true Kira. The one who was broadcast on Sakara TV is a pretender; a fake. The purpose of the message is to communicate my will to this imposter. I have chosen to be lenient with him for the time being, only because I believe he wishes to cooperate with me in the creation of the new world. But, I want to make it absolutely clear that the taking of innocent lives is against my will. If this person claiming to me is sympathetic to my cause and wishes to be of some help, I ask two things of him: that he refrain from killing aimlessly and that he agree to abide by my basic principals.”

I close my eyes briefly, not listening to the end of the speech. I know it all anyway, as I wrote it. It scarcely matters to me.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

A beeping noise from L’s laptop wakes me from my moment of near-unconsciousness, and I open my eyes and force myself to sit up. A blank screen with the letter W is what meets my eyes. “Ryuuzaki, we have a reply from the Second Kira,” Watari informs us.

“What?” I hear someone say, and I stand quickly, right next to L. 

“Really?” Matsuda asks eagerly. 

“I’ll be bringing over the envelope and tape we have received, but in the meantime I’m streaming a copy of the video so that you can view it on your end,” Watari says. We all crowd around the computer, and L perches himself in the chair directly in front of it while the rest of us stand around it. The screen goes back to the Second Kira’s original font and background design.

“Kira, thank you for your reply. Please do not worry, I will follow orders and do as you say.”

“Whoa,” Matsuda breathes. “It worked.”

“I really want to meet you.” There was a pause, then, “I don’t think you have the Eyes,” and I swear, my heart stops beating. I can feel my hands start to shake –what does he mean? If it is what I think it is, and he has the same ability I do, then we’re in more trouble than I thought. My breath picks up and I can barely see. “But you don’t have to worry, I would never try to kill you.” As if that’s a reassurance, I think sourly, my eyes fixated on the screen. Most of my effort is going towards fighting back my natural red eyes, and I can feel myself losing the battle. “That’s a promise.” 

“What’s this ‘having the Eyes’ supposed to mean? Is it a code?” someone wonders aloud. From the faint ringing in my ears, I cannot distinguish their voice. 

“Yeah,” another person says. 

Meanwhile, L has not moved from his place, also frozen in shock and maybe fear. The voice becomes muffled, and I can only make out the last part. “…You’ll think of something,” is what it says. “When we meet, we can confirm out identities to one another by showing our Shinigami to each other.” L sucks in a sharp breath, and I don’t blame him. This is proof- I have the same ability that the Second Kira does. He shoots backward in his seat with a cry, and his hands go up into the air as he screams. Everyone stiffens while I am finally able to force back the color of my eyes and look at L. He looks terrified, and I don’t blame him. I think I’m going to black out soon. L’s chair falls over and I have an insane urge to laugh when he goes down with it, the screen going black. 

“Ryuuzaki!” Aizawa(?) calls urgently. Everyone rushes over to him, and I take the moment to try and control my breathing. I start to calm down, but only slightly. I regain feeling in my legs, and I can feel the light-headedness disappear. “Are you alright?”

L ignores them and sits up again, hair in more of a mess than usual, and asks in a weak voice, “Sh-shinigami?” He pauses, then continues, “Am I supposed to believe that? That Shinigami actually exist?”

“That’s impossible!” someone says. Matsuda, I believe. My breath is starting to come back to me now, but my thoughts are a whirlwind. I can’t think- but I almost have this case solved. If only there was proof-

“Obviously they don’t exist,” Aizawa says sternly. 

To keep up appearances, I take a small breath and say, “Yes, that’s right Ryuuzaki. Listen to yourself, of course Shinigami don’t exist!” I wonder, when L turns to look at me, still afraid, sweat dripping from his hairline, if he can tell I’m lying to him.

He takes a breath, “You’re probably right but I remember that Kira had those prisoners write something suggesting the existence of Shinigami.”

Soichiro takes a step forward, concerned. “So based on that fact,” he mutters quietly, “perhaps we’re dealing with the same person after all. That would definitely explain why we’re hearing the same words.”

I look at him, briefly wondering how the hell my father can be so stupid when I am such a genius. Where did my intelligence come from? “I don’t think so,” I tell him, and he looks at me, “because if this was the same person, it’s highly unlikely he would’ve responded to our video in the first place. And why would he agree to let L live, after going through all the trouble of getting him to appear on TV? The real Kira wants him dead. So, it doesn’t make sense,” I finish.

“So maybe there’s some other connection between the real one and this new guy. They could’ve already met and used the word Shinigami as a way to confuse us,” Aizawa points out. At least someone isn’t a total ditz, I think, my mind and body finally completely under control again. Still, it isn’t the right answer.

“No, I’d say that’s unlikely,” L says suddenly, and everyone turns to him. He is removing his hand from the bridge of his nose. He stands and brushes himself off for a moment before lifting the chair up and continuing, “It’s as Light-kun says,” he climbs into the chair, “if the two Kiras were connected, I don’t think the imposter would be so willing to give up on his plan to kill me. All of this suggests to me that the copycat has his own agenda and is acting independently of the first.” He leans forward just a bit, like he’s telling us some big secret. “I believe his actual motivation is to meet the original.” 

“…I think you’re right,” I say slowly, “He’s acting out of an interest of Kira.” I cross my arms across my chest. “The word Shinigami could very well be some reference to their killing power.” I am almost talking to myself, but I direct my words to L, who is sitting- perching, rather- quietly and hanging onto my every word. He’s probably waiting for a slip-up that will never come. “Saying we can confirm our identities by showing our Shinigami to each other probably means that they confirm their identities by somehow confirming their ability to kill.”

L stares at me for a moment, not giving anything away. Then he says, “Yes, that’s it. Based on their messages, we can assume the word Shinigami must hold some other meaning that only the real Kira and the Second Kira are aware of. Now, we just need to convince this copycat to tell us what it is.”

“So, when you respond and force him to be more specific,” I say quickly, “we have to be careful how we handle this. We can’t make it too obvious that we’re asking, otherwise, he’ll realize, we’re not Kira.”

“No,” L replies. “From now on, it’s best that we leave it up to the two Kiras.” Everyone around me, including myself, suck in a breath. What’s he thinking? If we leave Kira and his copycat to their own devices, they’ll get together after the real Kira responds to the Second Kira and the mass murder will be monumental. 

“What do you mean?” Aizawa asks, taking one step forward. 

“I imagine that the Second Kira is probably quite satisfied with the current situation, now that he’s received a televised response. He sent a message to get Kira’s attention and as far as he knows, he now has it. Also, there’s that word he used, the one only the two of them would understand. We’ll arrange to have this reply broadcasted tonight on Sakura TV’s news. Naturally, this would be of interest to Kira, and he’ll be following this exchange between the copycat and the one we’ve invented. Now, if I were Kira himself, my priority would be to prevent this information from coming into contact with the police. This is good for us, because it means that the real Kira might feel pressured to respond this time.” Damn, I think, L sure can talk. Though, I‘m fairly certain that this is mostly for the benefit of the other members of the Task Force, I cannot help but feel faintly annoyed that he explains every last detail. Nevertheless, we would be slowed down if they didn’t understand.

“Okay,” Aizawa says, leaning forward even more. “But let’s say he doesn’t respond? Then what do we do?”

L taps his finger on his knee, contemplating- probably how to say his answer in the simplest way. He looks down, “Yes,” he says after a couple of seconds, “I’ve been thinking about what the Second Kira might do if he gets no response. For one, he might reveal more information that he knows Kira wants kept secret, to pressure him into a meeting. Of course, that would make Kira nervous.” He looks up, and I’m surprised to see a smile on his face. It suits him. “It could be interesting. What would be more interesting,” he continues, smile gone, and “is if Kira sends a message of his own to prevent this from happening. Ideally, this could provide us with the physical evidence needed to build a case against him. In the mean time, let’s gather all the information we can on this copycat.”

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

A loud ringing noise reaches my ears, and I groan from where my head is underneath my pillow. I just got back from the store, and I’m tired, and really, really don’t want to deal with L and his nonsense right now. Still, it’s not like he can be ignored when he doesn’t want to be. I grab my coat and walk right back out my door, down the stairs, and out into my front lawn before I answer the phone. It’s on its last ring. “Hai?” I ask briskly, pulling my hood over my head and looking at the ground.

“Raito,” my father’s voice says, “there is another message from the Second Kira. It was sent to Sakura TV and we intercepted it. I’m told it’s a video and a journal this time. Anyway, I figured I should tell you,” he finishes. 

A journal, I wonder, interested. “Yeah,” I say into the phone, “Thanks Dad.” The line goes dead, and I’m too lost in my own thoughts to really care. What could possibly be in the journal? A plan, maybe, or just another message?

I don’t have time to think on it more, as I reach the hotel. I glance up at it, sigh, then walk in, heading straight for the elevator. Now I’m actually used to getting to L’s room, I do it without much thought. I slide my key into the door, and everyone turns to look at me when I enter. Each one calls out a half-hearted greeting, and I know I’m not the only one who is tired. 

L gestures me to my father, who is scanning a notebook, one that is usually bought for school kids. “He wanted it shown on TV,” L offers, not looking at me. I’m tempted to stick my tongue out at him, but contain myself and make my way over to my father.

“He wanted the journal shown on TV?” I question, basically repeating what L just said. I see him glare at me slightly for only a moment from the corner of my eyes before he is fixated on the TV again. 

I reach for the book, and my father hands it over. “Yeah, and this is it,” he replies. 

I bring it up to my face, looking over the kanji characters in curiosity. 2003? I wonder, momentarily bewildered as to why in the hell we would receive entries from a diary last year. “Please take a look at the entry he made on the thirtieth,” L says, and I glance at him, but he is still looking at the television. I blink and hum, to let him know I heard, then look at the entry from the thirtieth. Confirmed our Shinigami, the Tokyo Dome. Then I realize- these entries are not from last year. They’re just dated that way to throw people off track. But, these are things that he intends to do in the future. He wants to meet Kira and ‘Confirm our Shinigami’ on May 30th. If this were aired on TV, his intensions would be obvious. I glance up at the other notes and read them quickly. Nothing catches my interest- it’s all personal bullshit we don’t need, though there are mentions of other places where he is meeting friends.

“What do you think?” L questions, and I look up. He’s standing right next to me, and our eyes meet for a moment before I look away. I stare instead at his name. “Is it real?” 

I lower the journal and bring my eyes from the bold red letters to stare at him, taking in every inch of his face. The pale skin, high cheekbones, heavy bags under his eyes, practically nonexistent eyebrows. “Really,” I say, “All I can say right now is this Kira is quite stupid.”

The rest of the Task Force crowds around us, and Matsuda leans forwards, gesturing with his arm, “Yeah, I agree,” he says. “I mean, it’s completely obvious he wants to meet Kira at the home game.” L walks away while Matsuda is saying this, and I wonder if the investigator has any respect for us at all.

“Doesn’t he understand what would happen if we aired this message?” Soichiro demands. “It would create a complete panic and the game would have to be cancelled,” he finishes, looking down while his fingers rest lightly on his chin. 

L is sitting in his chair looking over a box of chocolate candies. He speaks up just as he puts one in his mouth. “To be honest, it’s so stupid, I’m not even sure how to deal with his whole situation anymore.” Everyone, including myself, stares at him. I’m not sure what the others are thinking, but I really would love to know. All I can think is that he really doesn’t have much respect for us. He gets up and puts the candies on the other table then goes to sit back down saying, “If we make the diary public, we’d be forced to make some kind of public announcement canceling the game of the thirtieth. But if we don’t broadcast it, we can be sure the Second Kira won’t do anything.”

We all move to sit down on the couches while L finishes speaking. “Won’t canceling the game make him angry?” inquires Matsuda, sitting down. “There’s no telling what he’ll do.” My father takes a seat opposite Matsuda and Aizawa takes a seat next to him. 

“Frankly, that’s not a big concern,” L replies. I sit down next to my father, close to L, and cross my legs, feeling at headache start to build again. I dearly hope it doesn’t render me immobile again. “From what we’ve witnessed it’s safe to say that the Second Kira admires the real one. He gave his word to the Kira we’ve invented that he’ll refrain from around killing aimlessly, and I’m inclined to believe that.” He looks at my father and I, and continues, “I say we make it public, and we air an announcement canceling the game. At the same time, we’ll announce that on May 30th, we’re going to set up checkpoints on all roads leading to the Tokyo Dome. And finally,” he takes a breath, “we’ll send a response from our invented Kira, something like, ‘I understand, and I agree to meet you there.” L picks up a teacup and takes a sip. 

“Ryuuzaki,” My father says loudly, and I look up from my hands to stare in my father’s direction. “You don’t honestly expect him to go there if we set up checkpoints around the Dome, do you?”

L pulls the teacup from his mouth, and picks up the journal paper that my father had set on the table, next to a fresh box of chocolates. “I don’t think that Kira would even consider it,” he informs us. “But it’s possible that the other one might. And it all depends on how stupid he really is. However,” L says loudly, quickly, “assuming that he’s not actually the idiot we think he is, there could be another message hidden in this diary. One that’s not so obvious. If there’s a message here, written in some code, only the people with this, ‘Shinigami Power’ can understand, there’d be no way for me to decipher it. Still, it would only make sense for us to look into the places that were mentioned in the journal. The 22nd, he’s meeting a friend in Aoyama, the 24th, meeting another friend in Shiuia. We have to be prepared for the possibility that all of our efforts will be fruitless. So let’s keep an eye out for people with notebooks in Aoyama, and people in clothing stores in Shiuia.” He places the journal back on the table. “All we can do is place more surveillance cameras in Aoyama and in Shiuia, in hopes that we might capture somebody. We should also arrange to have undercover officers in both locations on these dates.”

“I should probably go to Aoyama and Shiuia, since I’d blend in with the crowd there, you know?” Matsuda says, smiling. I glance at him, and I suppose he would, since he’s young and loud and slightly childish- yes, I’m sure he’d fit right in with all the other idiots. 

L places his teacup on the saucer on the table. “I’ll go too,” I offer. My father immediately begins to protest, but I cut him off, “I’ll be alright, don’t worry. Aoyama and Shiuia are places I’d go to anyway,” they aren’t, “and not to mention, out of all of us, I’d probably look the most natural hanging out with Matsui-kun there. Besides, the Second Kira will be there looking for Kira, not for the police.” I can feel L staring at me, and my headache worsens as the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. I look down at my lap and allow, for the briefest of seconds, my eyes to fade to their natural red before I force them back to the amber everyone is used to. The pressure behind my eyes is barely lifted, and I use a lot of conscious effort not to press my hands to my temples- a clear give-away for a headache.


	6. VI

We discuss the detail more thoroughly for next few hours, and the pressure in my skull never lets up. By the time I'm climbing into cab to leave, I'm about ready to pass out from pain, though I do a great job at hiding it. "Okay," I say to Matsuda as I get into the car, "We'll talk more about our plans tomorrow," if I can get up to make my way over here, I mentally finish.

"Sounds good, Raito-kun," he agrees, "See you tomorrow! Be careful getting home," he adds, just as I shut the door. I reach into my pocket and pull out my music player, not even looking at it before I shove both ear buds into my ears.

The ride home is quiet, thankfully, and I close my eyes and lean my head against the cool glass window. I hear the backbeat of the music, but not the words. The driver pulls up to my house and I see my father's car in the driveway. I pay the driver and get out, slamming the door, not looking back as he drives away. I pull my keys from my pocket and search them in the dim light to find the right one. I find it after a second or two and shove it in the lock, turning it and pushing open the door. "I'm home!" I call, and my mother walks into the hallway, and smile on her face and a dishtowel in her hands.

"Hello, dear," she greets me, "You're back quite late today."

I look down and blink a couple of times, mumbling the affirmative, cursing how L made me keep my working with him a secret. I pull an excuse from my ass, mumbling how I was hanging out with a girlfriend I don't have. My mother blinks a couple of times, "Your~"

"Ah, hahaha!" Sayu cries, rushing into the hallway. She has a bag of chips in her hands, and she is practically screeching when she questions, "Raito, you have a girlfriend now? What's her name?"

"It's no big deal," I say, feeling the pain in my head intensify. I want them to leave me alone. Why the hell did I say I had a girlfriend? That's the worst excuse I could have given. "It's not that surprising, anyway," I add hastily, "I'm eighteen now, and I'm in University, of course I have a girlfriend." I try to make my way upstairs as I say this. Both ladies stare at me as I call, "And you should look for a boyfriend, Sayu!"

"Huh?" she demands, "A boyfriend? What's that supposed to mean?"

My mother calls after me, "Raito, aren't you going to have any dinner?"

Hell, no, I think. Just the thought of food makes my stomach roll. "Actually, I'm still full from room service at the hotel," I reply without thinking, my thoughts focusing more on the diary than the lie I'm spinning.

"Ah!" My sister cries, again, making my ears ring slightly, "I can't believe you just said that to Mom! So what's this about a hotel? Sounds pretty suspicious!"

I don't hear anything after that. I lock the door behind me and the darkness of my room makes the pain lessen a little. I walk over to my desk and start rummaging through the drawers; looking for the migraine medication I started getting behind the counter. The regular, classic pills aren't enough anymore. I spot the little orange bottle in the back of the top right drawer and pull it out. I hate that fact that it's been prescribed by an underground doctor I'm paying for myself, in secret, under an alias, but there isn't anything I can do about it. The migraines are much worse than they used to be, and I wonder if it's because of Kira, and this whole Shinigami business. I take two pills and swallow them dry, turning off my music and throwing the player and the ear buds onto the desk as I do so.

I lie down on my bed and kick off my shoes, not really caring where they land at the moment. I press my face into the pillow, inhaling the familiar scent- like home, I suppose- just as I close my eyes. It takes a while, but eventually the medication sets to work and I can fall asleep. I don't care that I'm still wearing my day clothes.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

On the 22nd, I wait on a bench for Matsuda to show up at To-Oh so that we can go to Aoyama. I have my jacket on and pulled up over my head, and my music is playing some sort of folk music I downloaded a couple of days ago. It's quiet and gentle, which is good because my headache has not completely dissipated since we got the journal. I have a book open on my lap, but I'm not really reading it, instead watching the crowds of students for Matsuda.

For a long time, I don't see him. But then I spot him looking around in the middle of the walkway, passing over me a few times. I snap my book shut and walk over to him, tucking the story into my bag as I walk, my gaze fixated on him. He notices me almost immediately, but doesn't seem to know it's me. Why does a jacket make so much of a difference?

I push back the hood when I get close, pulling out my ear buds while I turn off the music. I wrap the wire around the back of my neck and shove my hands back into the pockets of my jacket. "Hey, Matsui-kun," I greet.

He opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted but a loud cry of, "Raito-kun!" I turn to see Takada running towards me, looking slightly panicked. "Raito-kun," she repeats, "Do you have those notes on that math lesson a couple of days ago? I was sick, you remember, so I am completely lost."

Having anticipated this, I nod, and reach into my bag, pulling out a set of typed notes that I had taken in ninth grade. I remember learning something simpler in math that day, and was curious on how far the lesson could go. So I pulled it up on the Internet and found the lesson we had three days ago, and I took notes then, so I hadn't done so for a second time. She frowns at the date, but shrugs and reaches into her bag. Since we had gone to high school together, she knows my prices for notes. She gives me 3,500 yen, and I smile at her and pocket the money. I know I'm one of the most expensive people to go to for notes, but the people who got my papers understood the lesson on a much deeper level and learn it faster. Which is why I can afford to be so pricey and I still get lots of students come to me. "Thanks," I say, and she smiles.

"No, thank you, Raito-kun. Honestly, you're a lifesaver," she replies. She gives me another wide smile before taking off, and I stand for a moment, counting the money. As usual, it's all there. People also know not to try and skip out on me.

"What was that about?" Matsuda asks, looking honestly curious. I look at him for a second before I turn around to leave the campus.

"A lot of times people come to me for notes. I'm the smartest in the school, since Ryuuzaki never bothers to show up, as he doesn't actually need to, so they have no one else to really turn to. Sure there are others with high scores, but not as high as mine, and they know it. Takada- the girl who paid for my notes just then- is one of the smartest people here. Nevertheless, she can miss lectures and what not and then end up horribly confused. Still, most people come to me for cheats and extra notes and in rare cases, answers for a test. As long as I'm paid, I don't really care who I'm giving the answers to or what they're using it for," I explain, not looking at the detective walking next to me. I stare straight ahead, not processing any of the names or life spans of the people around me. But the blinding red letters and numbers alongside the sun are building my headache.

Matsuda doesn't say anything for a second. Then, "Won't that get you into trouble?"

"I've been doing it for years. I've never been caught," I say. We enter Aoyama and start to walk around aimlessly. Neither of us says anything, and I'm ultra-aware of the cameras and Matsuda's not so subtle glances every few minutes. I figure L wants him to spy on me, while I spy on everyone else.

We pass by several different shops an restaurants, and I make sure to file away every piece of information I see- names, life spans, names of stores or diners, signs, and the layout of Aoyama that we pass over. After several hours of silence and 'browsing' through places and looking at everyone and everything, we head home, without an answer. I glance into a restaurant we pass on the way back, and this girl with dark hair and glasses smiles and waves at me from inside. I frown slightly and don't meet her eyes, looking towards the places in front of me instead. Matsuda notices and hisses, "You just ignored her, don't be so rude!"

I glance at him, then shrug. "I don't know her," I hiss back. "Why should I care?"

The police officer shrugs and we continue on, back to the University, where I will hail a cab to go home, and he will head to L's hotel.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

I glance up at Aizawa through my eyelashes, seemingly fixated on my hands. L wants to know what happened at Aoyama and Shiuia, and I know that nothing happened in either place, and I figure that L knows it too, so the whole meeting is pretty pointless. Still, Aizawa reads from a card on the couch next to me, and I cross my arms across my chest while I listen. "So we were there both days," he begins, "at Aoyama on the 22nd and at Shiuia on the 24th, and we observed nothing of significance on either occasion. That leaves us with only the Dome on the 30th.

I sigh inwardly, tired of the whole Kira fiasco. I look towards the computer when it beeps, and a W appears on the screen. What does Watari want now? I wonder.

"Ryuuzaki, apparently Sakura TV has just received another message from the Second Kira." We all lean forward, gasps of shock and odd hums coming from the other Task Force members. I must admit, it's curious. Did they somehow meet without our knowledge? It's a scary thought. "It was postmarked on the 23rd." And the screen flashes before settling on the Second Kira's customary background and font.

"I'm happy to say that I've found Kira. To all of the people at the police department, I'd like to thank you very much." Huh? So they did meet. This is a problem.

"This is a disaster if he found him!" Aizawa announces, and I have to agree.

My father does, too. "This most likely means that the two Kiras are now cooperating with each other."

L picks up a spoon and his teacup and begins to stir the drink. "At this point I don't think we should jump to any conclusions," he says. "The Second Kira is only saying that he found him, nothing more. He may not have made contact yet," he adds, looking at me. But I'm still staring at the screen. He places the spoon on the table, and takes a sip of the sugar-filled drink. "But now that it's come to this, we have no choice but to communicate as the police directly to the Second Kira."

"You want to send a message?" Matsuda asks.

"Yes," L replies dryly. "The police need to reach out to this copycat to offer him a deal. We need to negotiate with him to see if we can get Kira's real name."

I glance at him, and wonder what he's thinking. Would the Second Kira actually play along with us? And if so, how do we know the information is reliable?

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

After leaving L and the Task Force, I walk back home and zip upstairs to my room as soon as I enter my house. I grab my medication and take one of the pills dry, then close the bottle and stuff it into the drawer before I can overdose. Sighing in annoyance, I drop into my desk chair and turn the TV on with the remote, which I then fling on the floor somewhere to my right. I watch the TV, wondering what the news and general media has to say about the current progress with Kira, and what L came up with from the police.

"If Kira doesn't yet know your name, it may not be too late for you, provided you are willing to cooperate. Whatever you do, you must not approach Kira out of curiosity. Make no mistake; Kira will kill you, if you contact him. You will be used, and disposed of. Consider your own life for a moment. Yours, like every other life, has an intrinsic value. Now is your chance to right past wrongs by sharing what you know of Kira. Only you can help us bring his reign of terror to an end."

A good speech, I suppose. All of it is completely true, from the evidence we've gathered. I sink further into my thoughts, wondering how the Kiras will respond to this. And, mainly, how Kira knew to find his copycat murderer in Aoyama. That's the most bizarre part of this whole thing- it just isn't adding up. There is some vital piece we're- I'm- missing. Every time I think I've got this case almost wrapped up something new will happen to throw me completely off track. It will force me to reevaluate everything- all the plans, Kira's past moves, evidence, the killing method…

The doorbell rings. I hear my sister shout that she's going to get it, and for that I'm glad. I don't want to go downstairs right now. Of course, with my luck at the moment, my wish is not granted. "Raito!" my sister shouts, and seconds later she's at my door. A horrible feeling sinking in my gut, the hairs on the back of my neck rising, I open my drawer quickly and switch on a voice recorder, turning it on. I then open the door hesitantly, and she plunges right on in with her explanation, "There's some girl at the door with a notebook you left at school today," she tells me eagerly. I know I did not leave anything at school today, for one, I wasn't at school, and second, I have everything in my backpack already. With this in mind, my memory rewinds to the journal, and I suddenly wonder, does this have anything to do with that? And, if so, just who is at my door? My heart rate picks up at the thought. I dearly hope Kira isn't at my door.

I follow Sayu downstairs and gently push her aside to see the person on my porch. A blonde girl is standing there, two pigtails in her hair. She is wearing all black- a skirt, corset, and thigh-highs that are partially covered by boots. She has a black purse is front of her, dangling from her fingers. Her blue eyes betray nothing when I step out into the light to greet her. Even if she is the Second Kira, she is still a woman, deserving of some proper respect until she's proven guilty. I glance up quickly to see her name and life span, only to inwardly panic when I read, Misa Amane, and nothing else.

My mind rewinds again, and I thank the universe for my photographic memory for the first time in a long time. "I don't think you have the eyes," the message had said.

So that's how she found me. She thinks I'm Kira because I probably have no visible name or life span to her Eyes. I close the door behind me, and we stand in silence until she speaks. "Um, pleased to meet you," she says nervously. She bows low, far lower than she should when she only just meeting someone on the same place of the social ladder, and announces, "I'm Misa Amane, the Second Kira. I thought you might get worried if you saw that message on TV. I just couldn't take it anymore, so I brought this notebook," she tells me, and holds out a small, black book. On the front, it reads, Death Note.

What the fuck?

I step forward and take the book, feeling the shiver of freezing air coil around my spine, from the back of my neck, to my tailbone, once again. My heart beats faster and I know; this is the missing link. Now, I can prove to L I'm not Kira. I can also prove her to be a fool, mistaking me for that monster.

I look up, and my mistake comes with glancing behind Misa. I barely retain a cry of shock and fear. A huge, thing, is standing behind the small girl. It's a white skeleton, practically, with purple hair and one yellow eye missing. It has marks on its thin, almost gray face, outlining its bony jaw. It has fangs like a vampire in its mouth, pricking at the purple shade of its lips, and it seems to be staring at me with a predatory look.

Nervously, I grab to the door behind me, and push on the doorknob. With a soft click, it comes undone, and I'm able to open the door. "Please, come in," I tell them, and my sister and mother turn to face me.

"Uh, you're sure it's okay?" Misa questions. At least the bitch is polite, I think sourly. I nod. "Thanks." She steps inside, and I follow, shutting the door behind me.

"Mom, she came all this way to return my notebook, could you make us some tea?" I ask, a plan forming in my mind, involving the voice recorder. I know Misa has to be arrested soon, tonight, if possible. And I think it is possible.

"Sure, I don't see why not," Sachiko replies.

I begin to head up the stairs and Sayu gives me a questioning look. A brilliant idea coming to mind, I say, "I already told you about her." My mother and Sayu exchange excited glances. Are they really that desperate for me to have a girlfriend? I wonder in passing. It's almost too bad I really don't want one.

Misa follows me after bowing to my family, and I lead her to my room, shutting the door behind us. I turn on the lights- when was the last time I touched that switch? – and Misa stands there, awkwardly, in the center of my room. Annoyed and still a little afraid, but not showing it, I take seat from my desk and spin it in her direction, inviting her to have a seat. While I'm over there, I reach into my desk drawer and pull out my cell phone. She gives me a look, suspicious. "Oh, um, thank you," she says, and moves to the chair while I sit on my bed.

I lean forward, my plan coming into its final stages. "Tell me about the Eyes," I say. "I failed to receive any such information."

She nods eagerly, and starts explaining things I had already speculated. "The Shinigami Eyes are a way that you can see anyone's name or life span above their head, just by seeing their face. However, everything comes with a price, and it costs half of your remaining life span to get them. I did the trade, and now I have the Shinigami Eyes. They also allow me to know who has a Death Note or and who has the Eyes. With the Death Note owners without the Eyes, I can see only their name. If they have the Eyes, I can't see either. I guess I was wrong, though, about you not having them, since I had no idea what your name was when I saw you. I took a picture, though, and asked around. Apparently you're really popular in this area, Yagami Raito." She winks at me, and I feel disgust rise under my ribcage. This whole thing is a mess.

I can only assume that this 'Death Note' is the notebook she held out to me. It also has to be the murder weapon.

Misa has to be the only person in the world who knows I have the Eyes. Fortunately, I now have a little bit more information about them, including that mine are different than hers. I'm guessing a bit more advanced, since I was born with them, and had no need to trade my lifespan for eyes that don't show me everything I see now.

"I see," I say, and then thank her. "What exactly made you want to do this- become another Kira, I mean?"

To my horror, her eyes fill with tears. "A couple of years ago, my parents were killed in a robbery. I saw the whole thing, since I was home with them at the time. The trial went on forever, and eventually, speculation that the robber was being falsely accused began to circulate. Then it happened. Kira punished him; he died of a heart attack!" She sinks from the chair and lands on her knees, her head bowed in grief. Her voice is tight when she says, "So that's why Kira means everything to me. He avenged my parents, and I knew I had to meet him someday."

Uncertain, I say awkwardly, "I'm sorry about your parents," then, knowing this is a great opportunity, I stand. "I'll leave you a moment, and use the restroom."

She nods brokenly, completely unaware of my plans. I slip out and into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it as I flick on the light. I turn off the voice recorder, and redial the number that L usually has my dad call me from. It rings twice, and then I hear L's voice over the line, "Light-kun?"

My voice shakes when I spill the information. "The Second Kira is at my house. Apparently she mistook me for Kira using some supernatural power- the Eyes, you remember? –and now she's in my bedroom, crying on my floor."

There is silence for a full minute. "I think I need a better explanation than that, Light-kun," he tells me, and I growl in frustration.

"Look," I say angrily, "it's okay if you think I'm really Kira and she didn't make a mistake. I don't really care. The point is, I have a serial killer in my bedroom and she has my name and face, thus, she can kill me if she wants to. I'm fucking terrified, and I really need you and the Task Force here and arresting her!" My voice is still shaking, and I feel tears of anger and frustration as well as fear building behind my eyes, which flare red with my churning emotions.

I can just see L blink. The thought makes my heart race faster, and I know it can't be healthy, this much fear. "Okay, then, Light," L, says soothingly, and I note the lack of honorific, filing subconsciously away for further examination later, though I doubt it means anything. "I'll have the police force down there soon. Do they need to cover their faces?"

"Yes," I whisper into the phone, relieved. "I'll knock her out with a lamp or something. By the way, her name is Misa Amane," I add.

There is a pause, then, "The model?"

I laugh slightly, "Yeah. Unbelievable, right?"

"Indeed. Oh, well. She confessed this?"

"Yeah."

"Idiot woman," L says scathingly, and I breathe another laugh.

"I recorded the whole thing, so I'll give the recorder when you get here, or I come to you, or whatever," I tell him.

"Alright. Good thinking, Light-kun. Expect us in about five more minutes."

"Okay."

The line goes dead, and I close my phone and slide it into my pocket. For show, I flush the toilet and wash my hands, then unlock the door, turning off the light as I step into the hall. I walk into my room and find Misa right where I left her. Good thing, too, that she's still curled up like a child. Quietly, I grab my lamp from my bedside table and creep up behind her. Guilt courses through me, but I close my eyes and hit her hard in the back of the head. She lets out a small noise of surprise before she falls forward, face first into my carpet. I lower my lamp and put it back on the table. I stare at the model curled up on my floor, amazed that she's a serial killer. Appearances can be deceiving, I think, L's picture coming to mind. I pick up the Death Note and read through it, finding names written in neat little rows covering about two pages. In silver writing- not from any type of ink I'm aware of- there are rules of how to use the book. Each one makes me sick, knowing they're real, and that they work. I can only imagine that after the first use, depending on one's personality and the circumstances, they either are possessed by this thing, driven to kill, or they burn it, disgusted and afraid. I don't want to know what type of person would use this thing willingly, without prompt.

Two minutes later, I hear the sirens in the distance, coming closer. I drop the book by Misa. I cannot believe my plan went forward as flawlessly as it did. I had been counting on Misa's idiocy, and she did not disappoint. I glance up from her crumpled form to find the colored lights flashing down the street, getting brighter as they get closer. The sirens get louder, and I get closer to my window. I watch as nearly twenty police cars pull up on the curb just outside my house, followed by a limousine. L.

I turn and grab the Death Note from Misa's hand, then look at the Shinigami. She- it, whatever- blinks at me then follows as I race out of my bedroom, meeting Sayu and Mom in the hallway. Both of them look rather alarmed, but I just shrug and open the door. I spot L's figure in the back, and I leave my porch to meet him. The policemen glance at me, wary, as I push through their ranks.

"You won't believe how surreal this whole thing is," I tell him, stopping in front of him. The Shinigami stops behind me, but I ignore it. I press the recorder into his hand and say, "She's in my bedroom, unconscious." I hold up the notebook. "This is the murder weapon."

L stares at it, confused. "Beg pardon?"

"I mean it," I say urgently, opening the cover, "This thing is what kills. It's repulsive." He peers at the words written, then scans over the names. When he tries to take it, I pull it back. He looks at me, and raises his eyebrow. "The Shinigami thing Kira was talking about?" He nods slowly, and I continue. "Well, it's true. The Shinigami God is standing behind me. I just don't want you to freak, like before."

L frowns at me. "I can assure Light-kun that I will not 'freak' as you say." Then he takes the notebook and looks behind me. To his credit, he doesn't scream, or yell, or anything. His eyes widen, his grip on the book slackens slightly, and he seems fixated on the monster. After a second, he seems to come to his senses. He grips the notebook firmly, and announces quietly, "I am L."

The Shinigami chuckles, "I am Rem," it says, "And I know who you are, little one."

"I am not little," L reprimands childishly, and I laugh. No, L isn't little by any means, since he's probably about 6'3 when he stands up straight, but he's still smaller than the Death God.

Rem shrugs. "You're little to me," it replies. "And your friend Raito is even smaller."

I laugh again, relief still coursing through me despite the dire situation. After all, this isn't over yet, though we're close.

I turn away from L, facing my house. I see police dragging Misa; her head limp, facing the ground. She's handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged, and I feel barely any guilt. I look for Sayu and my mother, finding them next to my father near the back of the police force, not far from L and I. They look a little lost.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to see L. He stares at me, unblinking. This time, I cannot bring myself to break eye contact. "You realize, Light-kun, that this brings about a bout of questions? You should know that we have to restrain you as well, since this whole scenario is questionable?"

I blink at him, and look down. "Yeah," I whisper, and he takes my wrists and binds them behind my back. It's uncomfortable, but I understand the reasoning behind it. I have some explaining to do.

My secret will be revealed.


	7. VII

I'm sitting in a chair in a pure-white cell, my head bowed, head pounding like never before. I can hear Misa down the hall, screaming and crying about betrayal and Kira. This has been going on since we got here and her questioning ended, about four hours ago. Her high-pitched voice is not helping my headache, and she's just getting really fucking annoying. "Oh, shut up!" I screech, and she's silenced, most likely from shock. "I don't want to hear anymore of your bitching or your bullshit, Misa Amane!"

I know the Task Force, my mother, and Sayu all heard me. They are watching through a live video surveillance, the camera placed just above me. I can't bring myself to look at the lens, mostly because of pain but partly because I don't want to reveal my secret. Everything would change, I know it. I don't want anyone else to know. It's bad enough that Misa knows, but luckily, during her questioning- a very successful torture procedure that got a lot out of her- she did not reveal my Sight. L listened to the recording, and is now trying to pry the meaning of 'I guess I was wrong, though, about you not having them, since I had no idea what your name was when I saw you,' out of me. I haven't given them anything yet, and I know it's frustrating them all.

L's voice calls over the intercom a few more times, repeating the question over and over again in different forms. I don't even look up. It's been going on for approximately two hours, and I can block it out successfully. I do look up, however, when my mother's soothing voice echoes throughout the holding cell. "Raito, dear, I hope you know that whatever this is, whatever is wrong here, it isn't going to change anything. I, for one, will love you anyway. Please, tell us what's going on," she pleads, anxiousness tainting her tone and giving away her intense worry over me. I don't deserve it.

I'm tempted to tell her, anyway, but I'm still uncertain. As if she can sense my anxiety, my mother continues, "I, and Ryuuzaki, and the rest of the Task Force have to know, so that we can get you out of that cell as soon as possible, darling. Whatever it is, you're probably blowing it all out of proportion, and it's most likely not as life changing as you think it is. Tell me, Raito, please. I beg you."

"But it is," I whisper, bowing my head once more, so they wouldn't see my despair. I feel like a child again. I'm ashamed of my weakness. But then, I think, aren't I entitled to be the child I never got the chance to be, just this once? "It is as life changing as I am making it out to be, because how would you deal with a son, not only so much smarter than all of you, no offence, but also a supernatural freak?"

"You are not a supernatural freak, Raito," Sachiko scolds immediately. "What on earth would make you think that?"

I take a shaky breath. I let the amber shade in my pupils dilate then vanish altogether, my natural crimson red eyes replacing the gold-orange tint that my family and friends were so used to by now. "Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that, Mom, Dad, Sayu?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

I look at the camera.

For a few minutes, there is silence. Then, unexpectedly, L's voice comes through, "What is wrong with your eyes?" he asks, his voice gentle.

Though he tried to make the question as friendly as possible, it still stings like a bitch. I wince, closing my eyes and looking away. "I was born this way," I say to the empty room. "I know now that they are the same ability that Misa has- the Shinigami Eyes. My Eyes, though, are more advanced, clearly, since I can see her name. My natural eye color is red, and the odd amber is a lighter version my body developed as a shield, probably before I was born. Though, as usual, everything comes at a price. My price is different than Misa's and the other Death Note owners. I get horrible migraines, sometimes lasting for days on end, and other times they become so intense I am rendered helpless and immobile, vulnerable to sunlight and any sort of noise. It is truly like nothing else you've ever felt."

There is silence, then L's voice. "Then you know all of our names?" he asks, almost hesitant.

"Yes," I answer immediately. "Would you like me to tell you?"

"Please."

"Touta Matsuda, Shuichi Aizawa, Kanzo Mogi, and – you probably don't want them you know your real name, am I right, L, Watari?" I ask, as an afterthought, and there is a moment of silence, before I hear L kicking the others out. Their voices are faded, and become gradually more so as they leave.

"Continue," L says, once I hear the soft, barely audible cluck of the door being shut.

"Quillish Wammy and L, how do you pronounce it? Lawliet… Law-LEE-et or Low-Light or what? I've never come across it."

L's voice sounds faint over the intercom, like he's in shock or something. "You had it right the first time: Law-LEE-et. It's English. You also got it right when you guessed I was British- I lived there from ages five to thirteen, and even now that is my base of operations."

I look back at the camera, intrigued. But more questions will have to wait. "So, am I cleared?" I ask hopefully, and I hear him sigh.

"Yes," he says. "You're cleared. Now that I know what's wrong with you, I can let you go. However, I will have to ask that you keep all of this information a secret. You cannot tell anyone~"

"I know," I cut him off irritably. "But I don't think that whole 'secret' part is really necessary, since you're not kicking me off of this case. You're not getting rid of me that damn easily."

Silence. I seem to be stunning him a lot today. "You're in college, Light-kun," L says, like he's trying to pacify me, "If you drop out, then you won't get the required degrees needed to join the police~"

I cut him off again. "And you think I care?" I scoff. "Honestly, I never wanted to join the police, I'd much rather do detective work, but I can't be a detective without being a policeman first. Besides, I'm sure I could take the tests right now and pass college with flying colors by tomorrow. You know I could, so if I just order them, that solves the college issue. Care to come up with any other crappy excuse?"

"…. I don't have one," he says, and I can't help it- I start laughing quietly, trying to keep the noises and movements muffled as not to aggravate my migraine. I can hear him laughing, too, probably because of the sudden lack of intense stress caused by my mystery. Watari comes in after a second and unlocks my handcuffs and the chains at my feet, while I try and catch my breath. I don't try to stand, knowing I will probably collapse if I tried. I haven't had another dose on the migraine medication.

Watari starts to leave, most likely expecting me to follow, but turns back around when he realizes I haven't moved at all. I'm still sitting in the warm, plastic chair, chains around my feet. "Come, Light-kun," he says, gesturing me forward.

I give a little hiccoughing laugh, then shake my head minutely. "Can't," I whisper. "I'd collapse."

"A headache?" L inquires.

"Yeah," I reply. "It's been here for hours…maybe seven? I'm not sure."

"Seven hours?" Watari repeats, shocked. "You've had a migraine for seven hours and no one was informed?"

I glance at him. "I once had one that lasted for six days and I never told a soul."

"Light-kun," L's voice says sternly, "this is why I have never supported the phrase, 'Suffer in Silence'. It's a wonder you've been managing to function all this time."

I blink, slowly. "It's fading now," I tell them. "Because I've let myself relax."

"This has to do with the Eyes?"

"Mmhm," I hum. "At least, I think so. It would make sense, since I have to relax them to get them to go away. My painkillers help, a little~" I shut my mouth. I shouldn't have said that, since they're a little less than legal.

But L lets it go. Thank God, I think. "Watari, fetch Mr. and Mrs. Yagami, please. I think they ought to be aware of this, don't you?"

Watari nods and leaves the room, the door still open. I bow my head, thankful for the chance to be so open for the first time in my life. It's more comfortable to talk to L, though. I don't know how Dad and Sayu will react. Mom said it wouldn't change anything-but I cannot be sure. I hear footsteps and I look at the door again. Watari walks through the doorway and hands me two pills and he goes to hand me a glass of water, but I take the pills dry. He blinks, then shrugs and holds onto the small glass.

More footsteps, much more timid than those of Watari, echo down the hall. After a moment, during which I hear muffled whispers, the footsteps speed up. My mother rushes into my cell and Watari steps out of the way. She kneels in front of me and stares into my eyes, clearly hesitant and fascinated all at once. I can see my father and Sayu follow at a much slower pace, and Watari slips from the room. I hear a soft click as the camera is turned off for privacy reasons. I thank L silently, grateful for the small favor.

"Raito," Sachiko says quietly. She stops talking when I focus on her, staring straight into her eyes. I can see my reflection in her chocolate brown gaze, as well as the letters of my name in kanji characters, floating above my reflection's head. I wonder sometimes what people's reflection looks like to them, and what I look like in their eyes. I bet whatever impression they had previously is gone now, replaced by whatever they think of when they see the red orbs where my eyes should be. Now I wonder what they're thinking- what exactly do I see when I look at them? "How long?" she asks finally, and I'm drawn from my thoughts. I know she knows that even though I locked her gaze, I am still not looking at her.

"What do you mean, how long?" I question. That question could have many meanings, including a few I cannot share.

"How long until we die?" Mom elaborates, and I wince.

I shake my head. "No," I tell her firmly, then look around at Dad and Sayu. "I will not tell you- it's horrible, knowing something like that. It causes me grief everyday, and I will not have you going through the same pain. Trust me, Mom," I refocus on her, hoping this will drive home, "you don't want to know when you die."

"Do you know when you'll die?" Sayu blurts, and I glance at her and shake my head. She looks surprised, but okay with the answer. "And you've had these since you were born?" she asks, and I nod. She huffs out a laugh. "How did we never notice?" I shrug.

"Maybe you didn't want to," I reply in a whisper. The medicine hasn't kicked in yet. It seems, almost like, now that I've made others aware that I'm in pain a lot, it just intensified. "Maybe I am an excellent liar, actor. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So many different answers to that question, Sayu, I don't know where to begin. I don't really want to, either, not right now." I glance behind me and look towards my father, then back to my mother, who is kneeling in front of me, my hands in hers. When did she do that? I wonder vaguely, then decide I just don't care. Everything is hitting me now- I really told them, didn't I? They really know. And they haven't run yet.

My mother tightens her grip on my hands and I focus on her again, a question on my lips. She shakes her head, and sighs. "You must be tired, dearest. So much has happened in the past few hours, and I can see that it's just setting in." She smiles at me, and stands, pulling lightly on my hands to make me follow. Instinctively, I follow my mother's silent command, and, since I am so used to working through a migraine, I don't sway, and I don't fall over. I do, however, close my eyes against a dizzy spell. At least now I'm on my feet. My father rushes over and wraps one arm around my shoulders, to give me support, so I don't have to bear the entire weight of my body against the pain in my head.

I don't normally take well to being coddled. I don't like it- I'm not one for human touch at all, actually. But this is okay. More than okay, actually. I don't like the idea of them knowing, and I know it will take time for us all to adjust to the idea. But for now…


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you ever just want to read this whole thing all the way through, the whole story is posted and complete on my fanfiction.net account. The username is the same.
> 
> You know... just saying.

It's dark when I wake up. For a moment, I'm disoriented, wondering where exactly I am. I sit up quickly and look around, focusing on the florescent light from the laptop that is on the table. I realize now where I am- I'm still in L's hotel room. L himself is curled up in the chair in front of the coffee table, but from here I can't tell what he's doing. I glance at the clock on the bedside table, and see that it's nearly five in the morning. Quiet, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, then stand, the barest hints of a lingering headache still remaining from before. My feet slide soundlessly over the carpet, as I make my way over to the table.

The laptop is open to a Microsoft Word document, labeled "Kira Case Notes". The entry is on the fortieth page of roughly sixty. I scan the content of the page, and notice that the page is all about me- everything that L knows for a fact, speculates, or speculated, and how I tie into everything. I roll my eyes and turn to face the only other person in the room, only to see that his eyes are closed, his breathing even, and face relaxed. He's asleep. I blink and stare for a few more seconds, my heart softening at the sight, before I take the seat next to him and pull the laptop onto my lap. I minimize everything, not really caring what it says, and pull up the Internet. I log onto the website that has the most reliable news feed, and look it over. There is a small mention of what happened in my neighborhood, and with only a few comments, I can guess that the general public deems the ordeal unimportant. The Task Force is keeping everything hushed, then.

L stirs next to me, eyelids fluttering, before they open halfway, still fogged over with sleep. He yawns and blinks a few times, before his gaze sharpens and he notices me. He sits up quickly, staring. "What are you doing?" he demands.

I blink at him and turn the laptop screen in his direction. "Looking at the news. You know, current events, weather, the date…" I trail off. He looks annoyed, now.

"You haven't looked at anything else?"

I shake my head. "No, sir. If you don't believe me, you can look at the mouse strokes later." I close the lid on the computer and hand it to him. "I'm nosey, sure, but even I know when I go too far. Besides, it's all about the case, or some other cases, maybe, and if you see fit to tell me, then I'll know. Until then, it's none of my business."

"You're right," he agrees. "It's none of your business."

I roll my eyes, making sure he sees the movement. He ignores me, opening the laptop again, and closing the Internet browser. With everything minimized, the desktop is immediately revealed, and I notice it's nothing more than his customary blank white screen with the L in the center. "However," he continues, "This is your business, as it greatly involves you." He opens another Word document, completely blank, and then sets the laptop on the table. He shifts, his stance relaxing, with only one knee drawn up to his chest. The other leg hangs from the end of the chair. He rests his wrist on his knee, and gestures with his other hand. "I've been thinking about how we can use your abilities to our advantage. The simplest way would be to have you walk around the Kanto region, inconspicuously dressed, and have you read every name and lifespan. When you find people without the lifespan, let us know through an earpiece similar to a Bluetooth, though a bit more secure as far as radio interference goes, and with a larger signal range."

I shrug in response. "I suppose that's also the easiest way," I guess.

He nods, looking faintly annoyed. "Yes, it is. The other ways include a lot of bribery, radio slots, time, money… in general, things I don't want to use. Not to mention, some of them include a lot of risk-taking, mostly on your part, and I figure I'd never get away with it, as far as your family's permission goes. We wouldn't have the time anyway."

I snort, cracking a grin. "No, probably not. They let me get away with a lot, and turn a blind eye if I'm in trouble with my teachers or other students, as long as it doesn't effect my grades or my health."

L rolls his eyes this time, "I figured as much," he admits.

"People who don't generally like me- mostly jealous boys- call me a spoilt brat because of it," I inform him.

"They're not wrong."

"Of course not," I laugh. "Why bother to deny the truth? Still, they can think it all they want, just don't say it."

"Why not?" he questions, and I shrug.

"Just one of those things, I guess."

He grins. "I guess," he repeats. The grin disappears, and his blank mask is in place again. "Anyway, it'll take time, and will probably be quite tedious, but sometimes you have to do things simply."

I nod. "Indeed," I agree. "So when will this start?"

"I'll finalize the plan tomorrow, but I figured you should know, since you're up," he says, reaching up and scratching his head.

"Since I'm up," I repeat, teasingly. "What did Amane say?"

His gaze, which had wandered to the ceiling, snaps back to me. "It was mostly nonsense, things that I had already guessed. She was very reluctant to give anything up. She mentioned her parents, and while that is unfortunate, I doubt it is a very good reason to become a serial killer simply to meet another serial killer." He rolls his eyes and makes an exaggerated gesture with his hands. "She said something about the Shinigami, and how they actually drop the killer notebooks from their 'world' to mess with humans. She mentioned that you actually require a name and face to kill, which we already knew." He looks up again, biting on his thumbnail. "It's a certainty that there are a couple of more notebooks in the human world, at least one more, anyway. Apparently the users of the notebook are bound by certain rules – the ones written on the back of the cover. She didn't say anything else, and Rem has been silent since it got here," he finishes.

I give a little hum, expecting most of what I was told. Apparently, the bitch hadn't given up as much information as I had originally assumed. A pity. I run the information over in my mind, taking note how it all fits perfectly into all of my theories and hypothesizes. L falls silent, seeming to sag into the couch, content to leave the conversation at that, I suppose. He stares into the distance, probably thinking things over rapidly.

"Do you mind if I go back to sleep?" L asks suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended over the room a few minutes ago. Apparently I was wrong. He most likely wasn't thinking anything at all.

My red eyes flash over in his direction; I'm surprised. "I don't care," I say. "I'm tired myself, still." Frowning inwardly, I look him over, and notice that his eyelids are drooping, and that the clarity that came with being woken is wearing off. His dark eyes are loosing some of their usual shine, making them look dull and lifeless. In the lighting of the laptop, I notice that they are a sharp gray, rather than the blackish brown I had previously assumed them to be. The dark circles under his eyes are more prominent than I've ever seen them; a jolt of concern runs through me. He really needs to sleep more. "We can share the bed, if you want," I offer without thinking.

Thankfully, he is so socially awkward; he doesn't pick on the slip of my words, especially in his half-asleep state. He just nods gratefully, and stands. Closing the laptop, I quickly follow, climbing into the bed on the side I had woken up on. L climbs onto the other side, under the covers, and faces away from me on his side. He curls up into a fetal position, and I can tell from the way his arm is resting on his ribs that he has is thumb somewhere near or in his mouth. I can tell that he's asleep in moments- his shoulders relax and his breathing evens.

For a while I rest, simply staring at the ceiling with my hands behind my head. My body is stretched out, unlike L's, completely relaxed. I should probably feel more awkward sharing a bed with someone, but I feel entirely at ease.

That realization alone puts me on edge.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

What feels like minutes later, but in reality is about an hour, I'm woken by a knock on the hotel door. I glance over to L, but am somewhat unsurprised to find him still sound asleep. He was exhausted last night, I know that much. He must not have slept in a while. I consider waking him, but discard the idea. I don't know how much sleep he had received before I woke him last night, but I have a feeling it wasn't much, since he was up for maybe twenty minutes before he was out like a light once more.

Muttering profanity softly under my breath, I pull back the sheets on my side of the bed and walk over to the hotel door. I look through the peephole before I open it, finding the Task Force on the other side. They all look briefly surprised, but the emotions are quickly concealed by a mask, one I'm sure will be on for a while- at least until they get used to my eyes. I step to one side to let them inside, and when they are all in, I shut the door.

They are looking around in confusion, taking in the closed laptop, empty teacup, and plates with barely anything left on it save for crumbs. "Where is Ryuuzaki?" my father asks after a moment.

I shrug, taking my seat from the night before and lying down. "He fell asleep about an hour ago. Hasn't moved a centimeter since."

"Seriously?" Matsuda asks in disbelief. "He actually sleeps?"

"Yeah."

There is a click in the direction of the door, and it opens slightly to reveal Watari. He blinks at the scene for a moment, then says, "When L does sleep, it's normally for about nine hours or so. I suggest you all just go home."

"Shouldn't we work instead of leave?" Aizawa questions.

Watari shrugs. "What could you do? You need him to move forward- after all; he is the only one who knows the plan for your next move. You're welcome to stay, should you wish to do so. I wouldn't recommend it."

The members of the Task Force consider it, meanwhile, I hunt down a piece of paper and a pen until I realize L left a Word document open the night before. Or, rather, an hour ago. I shake my head and walk over to the laptop and lift the lid. I hesitate for a moment, before I type:

Ryuuzaki-

Task Force came at 6am.

I left with my father.

Thanks for helping me out.

See you tomorrow.

Raito

I close the lid on the laptop and sigh, glancing up at my father, who had been reading over my shoulder. "Are we leaving?" I ask him.

He nods quickly and straightens while I stand. I bow my head in Watari's direction, and he returns the nod. I then, without looking back, walk right out the door.

I hear footsteps behind me, and I know it is the Task Force. I bow my head and put my hands into my jean pockets, missing the comfort of my jacket and its hood. I shrug it off, walking from the hotel and heading straight for my father's car. He is not far behind me, so he unlocks the car and I slip inside, taking my customary seat on the passenger side. Soichiro doesn't look at me when he shuts his door and starts the car. He backs out of the parking space and still, doesn't glance at me. Normally he would've struck up a conversation at this point, but no luck. I address it, "Is it because of my eyes or because you can't go to work today?"

His eyes flicker to me briefly before he looks back at the road. His grip is tight on the steering wheel; his knuckles are white with the force of it. I must've hit a nerve- it's because of my eyes. "Neither, son," he tells me. "It's just stress."

Reflexively, I respond, "Liar." I shut my mouth immediately, shocked at my audacity. Dad is shocked, too, I can tell, because his gaze shoots over to me, anger and surprise clear in the sharp gaze.

"What did you say?" he questions, his voice shaking slightly from suppressed anger. Some of it, I know is directed at me, and I know some must be really stress, but I can't think of anything else that might make him so mad, when he normally much harder to anger. I gulp, then shake my head, biting my lip as I turn away and stare out the window.

I'm mad at myself. Normally I don't back down from a fight. I never surrender an argument. But Dad never really gets angry, either. It surprised me, and I don't know how to deal with it. I watch the city of Tokyo go by, not really seeing it. My mind turns over nothing, and even though I have gotten a lot of sleep, I'm still tired. I don't want to face my family. It's different, seeing things for the second time. You think you're okay with it, that you've got it under control, that you've wrapped your mind around it. But usually, you haven't, and it stings.

My father pulls up to our house, and I hop out of the car before the vehicle is turned off completely. Soichiro doesn't say anything to me when he catches up at our door, instead just unlocking it and holding it open for me. Sayu should be in school by now, I think, staring at the quiet house. Soichiro steps in behind me and hangs up his jacket, slipping off his shoes. After a second, I toe mine off, too, and follow him into the kitchen where my mother is, allowing my eyes to relax to their natural shade.

Sachiko turns when we enter, surprised. "Raito! Soichiro! What are you doing back already?" she asks, gesturing for us to sit.

"Ryuuzaki fell asleep about an hour ago," I tell her. "Since he barely sleeps, we didn't want to wake him." I glance at the clock, and then stand. "I think I still have time to catch my first class this morning," I say quickly, forcing my eyes into the painful amber. "Do you mind if I go, since I've missed a few days?"

I don't really care- I'll go whether they want me to or not. I need to get away from my father and the suffocating atmosphere he is creating. My mother nods, her smile slightly strained. I can't bring myself to feel bad, because while I know she wants me to stay, I need to go. So I do.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

My classes pass uneventfully and I am immensely grateful for the first shred of normalcy I've had in a long time. My friends- if I can really call them that, somehow, I don't think that I can- were surprised to see me and crowded around for most of the day, never leaving me room to breathe. I did get a lot of money for notes, though, which I'm grateful for. I made about 25,000 yen.

The next day I wake before everyone else in my family and proceed through my normal routine anyway. By the end of it, my father is awake and just getting ready. I let him know I'm leaving for L's hotel and take off without an answer.

L had texted me, and I assume, the rest of the Task Force, the address of a new building. He had had it built, and it was finally ready. I find it without an issue, and knock quietly on the door of the room L said he was in. This building doesn't have some secret code imbedded into it, thank God. That was so annoying and I don't want to deal with it now.

Watari opens the door, nods, and lets me in. L is sitting in a chair by the window, a steaming cup of tea in front of him and a chocolate box next to it on a coffee table. He has one of the pieces of chocolate in his hand when I sit across from him. He nods at me, face expressionless. We wait in silence for the rest of the Task Force. I look around me, taking in the huge computer screens and desks around the large room. It has a high ceiling, and a staircase on the right side of the room. There is an elevator underneath it. The entire room feels cold and dispassionate, distant and detached. It's exactly what I would expect from my employer.

It doesn't take long for the others to get here. My father arrives first, and takes the seat as far away from me as possible. Either L notices and doesn't care, or he makes note of it and shows no sign, because he doesn't react to the unusual behavior of my father. Matsuda, Mogi, and Aizawa arrive together, probably after first meeting at the police headquarters. They take their seats around the coffee table without a sound.

A few minutes pass before L makes any movements. He blinks, slowly, before telling the Task Force about the plan that L had told me about the day before. This plan has a bit more detail, however. I'm to start in Tokyo every morning and start walking in some random direction until I find this guy. Cameras will be set up around the Kanto region, taking a constant surveillance of the entire population while I'm not at the new building that L has had built. The cameras will be sped up when I get back to headquarters, and L and I will watch them together while I scan people as the feed plays.

The whole plan sounds really complicated and tedious. There are so many places for error it's ridiculous. I could miss Kira while I'm walking around, or when I'm viewing the tapes. There are so many people, so many names and life spans in the Kanto region, and I can't forget about how much land the region takes up. We don't even know if he's even still here- he could have run off somewhere else a few weeks ago or even a few months ago. For all we know, Kira might be agoraphobic and never even leave his fucking house. I don't voice my concerns, knowing it's the only method my parents would approve of that doesn't involve shipping really expensive equipment and really expensive people across the world or something equally ridiculous.

"Any questions?" L asks at the end of the speech, glancing quickly around at the Task Force. "No? Good," he says not a moment later, despite the fact that Matsuda looks like he has quite a few things that needs to be clarified in his mind. L stands, and I watch him lazily under my bangs as he walks around his chair to a different one in front of the television on a desk that doesn't have a computer. He climbs over the back of the large chair and stands in its seat for a moment before squatting down. I will never understand how he manages to sit that way day in and day out without getting uncomfortable or cramped. I can't bring myself to move from my seat, too content in my current position with my hand holding up my head and one of my legs crossing over the other. They don't seem to notice me anyway, and it's not like I can't hear them all perfectly fine.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

It's hardly ten minutes later that I'm sent out. I go without a fuss, and I just walk around the city I grew up in for seven hours, aimlessly looking over names as I see them.

Then I see it.

My eyes catch the break in the pattern immediately. Two people, both male, make their way into the bank. Neither of them have life spans above their heads. Curious, I follow them inside, and wait in one of the seats near the door under the pretense of having an appointment with a private teller. I play idly with my phone, texting with L every few minutes instead of speaking into the blue tooth. It's better to have something to do than just wait around and stare at people every couple of seconds. People will notice if someone does something like that.

The older of the two disappears into the safes in the back with a teller. The younger one walks over, and with a jolt, I suddenly recall why that name seems so familiar. Kaito, the boy doing drugs behind the high school I attended. He was in my advanced English class. I had never given him much thought. I had never imagined that he would be working so closely with Kira. But now I understand. He always was so desperate to survive, if not make it to the top. And when he finally realized he couldn't, he turned to drugs to forget his problems, if only for a couple of hours. Before he did that, there had always been rumors of his horrible home life, of his cruel parents and neglectful older siblings, which had only gotten worse once he started with drugs. He ruined his future. A rush of unexpected pity runs through me, but I brush it off quickly.

He notices me, and his eyes widen. I smile politely at him, and he takes the seat next to mine. "Yagami Raito?" he asks, and I nearly hesitate before I nod and shake his hand. "Goodness! I never expected to see you here. How are you? Is collage going well?"

He goes on. I answer all of his questions politely, if evasively, but he doesn't notice my half-true answers. When his older counterpart emerges from the back with the teller, Kaito stands, and smiles at me, telling me how nice it was to see me. It's a lie. I know it is. We weren't friends before, and we certainly aren't now. Props to him, however, for the convincing act. To an outsider, that would have looked genuine. I repeat the sentiment, and when they leave, I wait ten minutes before sending the police officers out after them.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

L and I stand in front of their cells. Both of us are a little dumbfounded that it was so easy- it was almost too easy. L had told me earlier that since the early parts of the case had been much harder, he would have expected something more difficult to come our way. I agreed.

I blink at their miserable forms, and then look at the notebook in my hands, which is cold to the touch, even though I have been holding it for three hours now. I glance at the Shinigami monster that had come from this book, who, for some reason, seems creepier than the other one. This one is dressed entirely in black, with black hair and red eyes that seem so familiar, almost painfully so. The creepiest part of it, perhaps, is the smiles that stretches from ear to ear, and its sharp teeth. It's disgusting to look at.

I shake my head and hand the notebook to L, who takes it with a nod. "I'm going to the bathroom," I tell him quietly. He nods again, and I turn and walk out of the prisoners' room without another word. On my way out I pass Misa Amane, who hisses at me. I hardly acknowledge her, instead just turning to the bathrooms.

I make it there without incident, but when I step into the stall, I find myself pinned by powerful hands against the wall. My vision has gone white from the impact of my head against the tiled wall, so I have no way of knowing what happened. As I try to regain my bearings, an unfamiliar voice hisses in my ear, "I never imagined you'd survive, never mind survive for nearly two decades with no one the wiser…"

"W-what?" I gasp out, dizziness making it hard to think.

"Your eyes!" the voice replies urgently. "When that idiotic fool cursed you as a child in your mother's womb, I nearly killed him. Nevertheless, he survived, however, you must be weary of Ryuk, child."

My vision cleared as the words registered, and I blinked in surprise at the sight in front of me. Another Shinigami monster, this one could instead be described as horrifically beautiful, rather than just creepy. With long, bone-like wings behind it, and a matching, torn, dress-like fabric covering it, it was almost like a fallen angel. It was still grotesque and frightening, but at least it was something I could stand to look at. I blink a few more times, but the sight remains. I am not hallucinating, as far as I know. It feels too real to be a hallucination.

"Which one is Ryuk?" I question sluggishly. My head is pounding something fierce, though it is not nearly up to par with my normal migraines.

It rolls its eyes. "The one with the shit-eating grin," it clarifies, and I remember it.

It's the one in the cells, with only prisoners and L to keep it company. "L," I hiss out, and start to struggle to get away, because if this Shinigami is telling me to be weary of one of its own kind, then I should be justifiably worried.

It swats at me, and pins me more firmly against the wall. "He won't harm your precious boyfriend, child," it scolds, annoyed. "Just you."

Amazingly enough, what I focus on is not the threat to my life, but rather to its other accusation. "L is not my boyfriend!" I hiss, suddenly very aware of where I am.

It gives some semblance of a shrug. To my annoyance and embarrassment, it appears to be laughing at me. "Whatever you say, child. I care very little for your petty human relationships, and the difference between each one."

I splutter in shock.

What the hell?

Where had this conversation gone?

I push the monster away from me, and this time, it let me go. Without thinking, I run back up to the rooms that L had provided in the headquarters building that we were using while trails were being conducted. I slam the door shut behind me, and then sink down to the floor, much like I had after the cameras had been taken from my rooms at my parents' house. I lean my head against the wall and try to sort out my thoughts, which were thrown into chaos.

I certainly don't mind L's company. It's comfortable being around him, and for once, I know that he is my intellectual equal. I could be with him. He's just male. I'm not a homosexual. I know I'm not.

My head slams against the door behind me, and my eyes burn. L is seven years my senior. He is a world-renowned detective. Even if he is homosexual, there is no reason for him to lower himself to date someone with a supernatural anomaly. A collage student still living with his parents. I have no income.

God, why am I doing this? Why do I even care? It was just some passing comment from a monster in a bathroom stall. It was trying to warn me about a threat to my life and I am instead fretting over whether or not I have L as a boyfriend. I hit my head against the wall again, and I feel a tear slide down my cheek. My hands fly up to my face and I don't shed another one. I have never concerned myself over my sexuality, mainly because I thought myself incapable of finding someone who I could be with. Because of my peers' lower intelligence, they were unattractive, though that was not their fault. I eventually settled on the conclusion that I was asexual and left it at that. It did not merit my attention.

I don't know how long that I sit in the same position, trying to come up with some shred of the organized thought process I had this morning. It must have been a while, since I am jolted from my stupor by a knock at the door. L's voice drift through the barrier, "Is Light-kun collected enough for dinner?"

I forgot about the cameras.

Still, I fumble around to get up and wipe at my eyes, hoping to be able to pass off my long absence for having taken an unexpected nap. When I open the door, I know he's not fooled. He stares at me for the longest minute, unblinking while I fight the urge to either bolt past him or slam the door in his face. "Well?" I finally demand, a little harsher than I meant to.

He blinks, finally, and turns away from me. His slow journey downstairs begins after I shut the door behind me. I fall into step next to him, and we both mutually agree through some silent communication to take the stairs instead of the elevator down six floors.

Somewhere on the fourth floor, L breaks the silence. "Did one of the death gods corner Light-kun in the bathroom?"

I blink and look at his profile. How on earth could he have known that? I know that he has only ever encountered two Shinigami, and both of them were in the cells while I was being attacked in the bathroom. I also know that he hasn't placed cameras in bathrooms, simply because it was in the agreement of all members of the Task Force that doing such a thing was crossing the line. All of this flies through my head in less than a second, and I reply without missing a beat and without my voice wavering, "Of course not. What on earth would have made you think that?"

"The second…thing…told me of the third one that has been roaming around since we caught Kira, simply for its own amusement. I cannot see it, but I am aware of its existence. The sound waves from the bathroom indicated that Light-kun was speaking to something after being attacked, but there were no replies. I assumed that this third Shinigami is what caused Light-kun's distress."

I have no answer. There is nothing to say. How do I tell my employer that he's right?

Because L is my employer. He is not, and can never be, anything more than that.


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a filler, but one of my favorites.

The next few weeks are painful. I catch myself more and more often just simply watching L, and now that I am aware that I'm doing it and why, I kick myself for my bluntness. He catches me jumping and looking away, and I know I'm being obvious, but something within me prevents me from stopping.

Because I know now what L is to me, even though I am not the same to him. And it's killing me, little by little, but there's nothing for it.

Now, staring at the ceiling in my room at headquarters, I scold myself for thinking like some love-struck teenage girl. Like Sayu, really. If she knew… I'd never hear the end of it. I roll over, and stare at the wall instead of the ceiling. There is little variation, but at least the wall is cream colored instead of white.

I should cut myself some slack. I'm not even nineteen yet, and it's the first time I've felt something for anyone other than familial love or acquaintanceship. I am, for all intents and purposes, a child still. It's only logical my thoughts would run along these lines.

Coming to terms with my sexuality was not as difficult as I had originally assumed it to be. Thinking back on things, my sexuality was fairly obvious, it just wasn't obvious to me, probably because I was not in a position to accept it.

With effort, I tear myself away from those thoughts and direct them to the Kira Case. The police force and judges on the case finally reached a verdict, three weeks after we caught Kira. Kaito and his accomplice, someone called Mikami, were both convicted and sentenced to death. That was earlier this morning.

I blink, and the memory resurfaces with blinding clarity, even though I would much rather forget it. My eyes slide closed. L, the Task Force, and I had walked down to the cells to deliver Kaito and Mikami to the authorities. I will never be able to forget the sight of their unseeing, empty, soulless eyes staring in mine. The blood had been everywhere.

Clearly, the Shinigami had been bored. There are no windows in the cells, and the security around this building is so top-notch it's ridiculous. There is no way someone could break in to kill them, and the conviction of Kaito and Mikami was never made public, ruling out the idea of suspects. Besides that, there was no sign of the Shinigami monster attached to them anywhere. The one that I had seen in the bathroom had left the same day it warned me (The monster called Ryuk never did anything). Rem remains, even now, with Misa in her cell.

Misa's trial is taking much longer, which is why I'm still in headquarters. My father tries everyday to unsuccessfully coax me home. His efforts are half-hearted at best, and I can't stand it. I can see it in his eyes that he doesn't want me back home, near my mother and sister, but they want me around, so he tries, despite his feelings. I cannot allow myself to leave, not when things are so close to being over. Misa is a public figure, well loved and well known around the world, so accusing her with hundreds of counts of murder is a huge deal. But with the evidence to prove her guilt, there is little people can say. They say it anyway.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The next morning brings a great deal of rain. It matches my mood. I start the day with a hot shower that I stand in for over an hour, leaving me wrinkled and pink getting out. All of the mirrors are fogged over, and the air is so condensed I can hardly breathe. So I open the door into my rooms and get dressed without pothering with my hair. After brushing my teeth, I leave the room with my headphones tucked into my ears and a jacket over my casual clothing. I am well aware of the water falling onto the extra garment, just as I am aware of the fact that Watari has the heat on, and that it's too early for anyone else to be here, not that they will probably show up anyway.

There isn't anything to do around here anymore, and it's not the type of day that would make anyone leave the house for no good reason. I make my way over to the elevator, and press the button to go up. There are a few dozen more floors between the roof and myself, and some alone time in the rain sounds perfect right now. When the elevator opens, I step inside and press the button to direct it all the way up. The doors close, and I lean heavily on the cool steel wall behind me. I'm so tired all of a sudden.

I stare aimlessly at the endless gray walls around me for the entire trip. When the elevator pings and the doors open, I jump, then step out quickly.

The first thing I notice is the sound. An endless patter against the roof, it seems so much louder. It quiets my music, but adds an extra note to it that I can't ignore. It is easier to listen to with the rain. I glance to the side, noticing the races between water droplets along the windows and the gray dreariness of Tokyo. Artificial lighting in the hallway I stand in makes my reflection appear sharper in the glass. I look haunted, and so, so sad. I close my blazing red eyes against it and turn away.

Walking on the steel, floating hallway is an easy, simple task to partake in. It requires very little thought on my part, and the door to the roof steadily becomes a fixated point that I can focus on. It comes nearer, and the sound of the rain over my music is no louder than it was. At least, it isn't any louder until my fingers close around the door handle and turn it.

The lack of friction between the door and the wall makes it blast open, and I am suddenly very grateful for my jacket. I pull the hood up over my head and step outside, wrenching the door shut behind me. There is a roof, but I ignore the safety it provides, and step into the chaos that rain brings to the outdoors.

I'm drenched within moments, but cannot bring myself to care. It's refreshing, and for the first time in weeks, I can think much more clearly. My music is completely drowned out, so I turn it off, and tug my headphones out and swing them around my neck, under the hood. I can barely see a foot in front of me, but I continue regardless.

I glance up, wanting to see Tokyo without the cover of the glass. Instead, my eyes are drawn to a lone figure standing under the cell tower. Curious, I walk closer, and I can make out the shape of L a minute or so later. My heart drops into my feet and then starts beating faster; can I never have a moment of peace?

Despite myself, I feel my feet moving forward, even as my gaze moves from L to the fogged skyline of the city of my birth. Suddenly the moment seems important as I stand next to the soaked man I can feel myself falling for. It's almost as if there's so much weighting on the conversation I can sense coming on, like my words will have more power than they usually do.

L turns to me.

I grin, wanting to take some semblance of control over this situation before he can speak. "What are you doing out here, Ryuuzaki?"

He turns away, and my grin falters, fake as it was. When he speaks, it's low and I can hear a touch of desperation within the curious tone he thinks he portrays flawlessly. "The bells are very loud today."

A crease forms between my eyebrows and I strain my ears to listen over the rain. But that is all I can hear. Oh, sure, there's also the faint buzz from the heater, and the even fainter sounds of the city beyond us, but those hardly matter. I can hear the water move under my feet when I shift my weight and I can hear my own breathing, just barely. But I cannot hear bells.

I glance at him from the corners of my eyes, slightly worried, as I reply cautiously, "I don't hear anything."

He visibly jolts in surprise, and some distant part of me wonders if it was faked. Another part is certain it was. "Really?" he questions. "They are so loud. It might be a church… a wedding, perhaps, or…?"

A funeral. It goes unsaid, but it is not unheard. The words hang in air, settling on my mind and in my mouth. They taste acidic, which is strange. I've never…

The last time I attended a funeral, I was only nine. It was so boring I hardly remember it. It had been for a woman I had never met, but was supposedly a friend of the family's. I do remember a few key things, though. The first was the sound of crying. Several people were in tears, including both of my parents. I'll never forget the echo of sobs that resounded through the church walls. At the time, I had barely heard them, too occupied with what was outside the window next to me, but that is not the case anymore. The sound had registered in my brain somewhere, and when my mother and or father gets upset for whatever reason, I can hear it all over again. It is a haunting noise. I wish I had never heard it.

The second thing was the sight of the body before it was to be buried. I don't know why they had it open. As a bored nine-year-old, the fact that I was looking at a dead body- a body that had once held a soul, a person, with a working mind and heart, hadn't really come across, for all my genius. I had glanced at her, saw that she had her eyes closed, and looked away again, uninterested. The line of people behind us ensured that we didn't linger much longer.

The last thing, oddly enough, was the silence. The church had been quiet in all the ways that the sound had bounced from the walls and suffocated us all with its insistence. It was a large building, with dozens of empty chairs in the back. Books were piled on tables near the doors and windows. Religious symbols hung on the walls and were printed on pamphlets and sewed into tapestries. Plants were placed all around the place, but even with all of that, it was so, so empty. A stage was at the front of the building, with statues and a pew, but that was the most crowded place in the building and the meters of land around it. But there was something. Even with the sounds of the birds outside, and the crying outside, and the voices of the people telling of this woman's life up front. There was something muffling it all.

Maybe it was the grief that hung over the people like a cloud. Maybe it was the location, or maybe it was the décor around the church. It was suited for ceremonies more like a wedding, not a funeral. Maybe it was the way my heart beat all through my time there; impossibly fast and it made me sweat with anxiety. Maybe it was just the feeling one gets at a funeral.

I wonder what prompted this mood change from L. He usually doesn't let anything get to him this way. Is he hallucinating?

"There are no bells, L," I say quietly, taking a half step towards him, but stopping myself from going further. I do not have that right.

He shrugs and doesn't look at me. Suddenly sick of this behavior and sick of the rain and sick of everything, I suggest we head back inside and head that way without looking to see if he follows me. He does.

I start shivering violently as soon as I'm back inside. Furious over my reaction to some rain, and upset about L and missing my home, I trudge belligerently over to a closet and tug out some towels, throwing some to L without looking at him. He catches some but drops others, and I roll my eyes as I wrap one around my shoulders and run the other through my hair. Once they are in place, I unzip my jacket and shrug out of it, and with some difficulty, manage to keep the towel somewhat in place afterwards. I sit heavily on some stairs and start drying myself slowly, my eyes closed, drained from my emotions. And I was in a good mood this morning, too.

All the while, my face is as blank as clean glass around us, and the steel floor below us. L doesn't suspect a thing.

A phone rings. I open my eyes to see L standing closer to me than I thought he was, a towel on his still-wet head and the other in his hand. He holds a phone next to his ear and listens without saying anything while I watch.

He looks at me, and considers, but what he considers I am not sure. When he reaches his conclusion, he gestures for me to stand and I do, falling into step with him when he begins to walk down the hall. "The trial has been completed," he says conversationally.

But that is all he says.

"And?" I press, after a few minutes of silence.

"She has received a death sentence."

Relief is the only emotion I feel now. I was wound so tightly, and I hardly noticed until I sag my shoulders and let out a heavy breath, happy and safe in the knowledge that the nightmare of the Kira case will end at last. It was interesting, but now…

Now, now all I know is that I would give anything to never deal with something like this again. That level of murder… it is staggering, and to know that I assisted L in completing the case brings me great pride.

My thoughts are a mess. I can hardly think straight.

When we reach my floor, I stumble into my room without a word. I'm asleep before my head hits the pillow.


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.  
> Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> While the first two chapters of the sequel: "Shinigami Minds" are posted on fanfiction.net, I've placed the story on hiatus because I don't have a lot written and I need some time to gather my thoughts and get back into it. That means, so as to not leave you on such bad suspense- unless you decide to look at the sequel on ff.net- I won't be posting the sequel here until I take it off hiatus on ff.net.  
> Thanks for understanding, and if you guys want to make requests or give me ideas for the sequel, you are more than welcome to. I'm sure you all know the oddness of certain prompts that kickstarts our brains, yes? :D

Days pass. Misa was executed two days ago, with great sorrow from the public, but great joy from the Task Force.

L and I have been talking frequently since the conclusion of the case. He confessed to his taste in music, and to his love of novels, which didn't surprise me. He let slip that he had a sister at some point, but clammed up once he realized it, and has said nothing more on the subject.

The building, now, has been packed up and cleared out. The Task Force dismantled this morning, and I alone volunteered to assist in packing away the last of the things that were here. L seemed indifferent to my offer.

I glance around at the empty room, remembering where everything was. It's late evening, and for the first time in what seems like forever, I am completely alone. There are no cameras left in the entire building. L and Watari are upstairs somewhere, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, I'm sure.

Footsteps sound on the stairs, the noise echoing in the bare room. I glance over to find L walking towards me, his posture straight and his hands in his pockets. He has on his normal jeans, but has on a simple blue and black plaid button-down instead of the obnoxious while shirt he'd been wearing. He looks relaxed and open, casual and human, above all, and the sight is breathtaking. He smiles at me, and it's a real smile, not at all faked or forced.

He comes to a stop next to me, and stares at me for a second, and then states quite plainly, "I do have a personality beneath the façade I put up for cases, you know."

I jolt, and a blush works up my neck despite my efforts. He laughs at my discomfort.

Determined to forget the incident, I ask loudly, "So what happens now?"

L calms immediately. He stares at me for a moment again, then, "I'm going home. I'm going to take a break. Everyone agreed that I deserve it." He glances around before resettling his gaze on my face. "Japan is great and all, but I miss the English countryside. I am done here."

Some part of me is disappointed. I was hoping- foolishly- for something more. But there is nothing, I know. He has no reason to stay. He does deserve to go home. I'm jealous. I wish that I had the chance to take a break. But my life has barely begun, I know, and I have to make a few more kick-starts before I can do anything more. It's frustrating. I'd been given this huge chance at the life I've always wanted, and now, now it's going to end, and it will be several years before I reach this point again.

Some part of that must show on my face, because L looks vaguely concerned for a moment. I collect myself, and smile at him. He wavers, before seeming to decide to let it go, and he smiles back. Then his phone rings. He turns away and answers, and pauses for a moment before hanging up. He turns back to me. "My helicopter is ready to go," is all he says. But it is enough.

"Good luck," I tell him with a smile, and wave him away. He glances at the elevator as I turn to walk out of the building, out of this life, out of L's life. This chapter is closed.

He grabs my arm and spins me around. I yelp in alarm, caught off-guard, but any questions I might've had are smothered when L kisses me.

Heat rushes over me in waves, and I know, I really know, that whatever happens in my life after this, I will never forget this moment. I will never be able to recover fully. He has broken me so fully in this moment. I was already nearing this point, but there is something different about breaking in the arms of someone else.

But right now, right now… right now I don't care. I kiss back feverishly, my arms going up to wrap around his neck. I have to stand on my tiptoes now that L is standing up straight, but that feels right somehow. It feels right to have his arm around my waist and the other hand cupping my face. It feels right to kiss like this, rough and demanding, instead of holding women to me and tasting their lipstick and feeling their smaller, more fragile bodies against me. It feels right to submit for once instead of control everything.

It could have been a minute or an hour, but it isn't too long before L sits down and tugs me into his lap, and it's there that we continue kissing. I move from his lips to his neck, sucking hard on his pulse, while he tugs my hair. He gives me the same treatment, and lies me on my back and hovers over me. I pull him down on top of me, and the make-out session gets much more heated very quickly.

He pulls away first, and we stare at each other. His hair is a mess, more so than usual, and his lips are swollen and red. There's a dazed look in his eyes, but it goes away quickly. I doubt it disappears nearly as fast in my eyes. My heart is racing. I'm breathing like I ran for miles. I've never gotten this worked up over a few kisses before.

L stands. He straightens his clothes and helps me up. He holds me for a minute, my head in the crook of his neck and his chin resting on my head. His hands run up and down my back, and I feel like crying. Why did he do that?

This isn't fair. Everything I want is right here, and soon, it will all go away.

I feel like such a child, but I think I have a right to be. I'm not even legal yet. I'm in collage, sure, and am more mature than most people usually, but this is not what happens to me usually. I don't usually assist the best detective in the world in the toughest case the world has ever seen. I don't usually fall in love with someone who will leave me.

I don't usually fall in love. I've never done that one.

If this is what it feels like, then I never want to do it again.

We pull away from each other and L turns to go. I stand to watch him. He makes it to the elevator before he turns around.

A chain that bore a locket on the end is tossed to me, just as L presses the button for the elevator. Luckily, I catch it, then I look up, desperate, and a soft, fond smile is on L's lips. The glassy mask he always wears does not cover his onyx eyes. "I'll need that, someday," he says, and steps into the elevator. "It was my mother's, and it is very dear to me. Keep it safe, Raito."

And then the doors slide shut, and I am left standing alone in the Task Force Headquarters' main lobby, staring at the elevator door. Knowing that L wouldn't have given it to me had he not been okay with me opening it, I unlock the gold charm and peer at the picture inside.

There is a picture of five people, standing in front of a small, run-down building. A man has his arms around a woman, and his other hand resting on the shoulder of a young girl. Two small, identical boys stand in front of them. The man is tall, with dark hair and a kind, but almost wild smile on his face. He has light blue eyes. The woman's hair is dark, too, and I can see that she has onyx eyes, just like L. She is smiling brightly, but her face looks broken, at the same time. The girl is very nearly the copy of her mother, but with her father's eyes. The boys, clearly, are L and his twin brother. There is no one else they could be, though I had no idea that L even had a twin brother.

Gently, I close the locket and make my way out of the Task Force's ex-Headquarters; my lips tingling from the kiss L and I had shared. I smile, and press my fingertips to my mouth, just as I step outside. I slip the locket into my pocket.


End file.
